OF  THE 


THE  PUBLIC  Urii{AR> 
THE  CITY  OF  DENVER 


BY 


ni~ 


GARFIELD    PEAK. 


THE 


CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT 


A  RECORD   OF 


A    SUMMER'S    RAMBLE    IN    THE    ROCKY 
MOUNTAINS   AND    BEYOND. 


BY    ERNEST    INGERSOLLj 


"We  climbed  the  rock-built  breasts  of  earth! 
We  saw  the  snowy  mountains  rolled 
Like  mighty  billows;  saw  the  birth 
Of  sudden  dawn  ;   beheld  the  gold 
Of  awful  sunsets ;  saw  the  face 
Of  God,  and  named  it  boundless  space/'1 


THIRTY-EIGHTH  EDITION. 

CHICAGO: 
R.    R.    DONNELLEY    &    SONS    COMPANY,    PUBLISHERS, 

1890. 


299796 

r 


COPYRIGHT, 

BY   S.    K.    HOOPER 

1885. 


R.  R.  DONNELLEY  &  SONS,  THE  LAKESIDE  PRESS,  CHICAGC 


Bancroft  Library 


TO 

THE  PEOPLE  OF  COLORADO, 

SAGACIOUS  IN  PERCEIVING,  DILIGENT  IN  DEVELOPING, 
AND  WISE  IN  ENJOYING 

THE 

RESOURCES  AND  ATTRACTIONS  OF  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS, 
THIS  BOOK  IS  DEDICATED 

WITH 

THE  HOMAGE  OF 

THE  AUTHOR. 


PREFACE. 


PROBABLY  nothing  in  this  artificial  world  is  more  deceptive  than  absolute 
candor.  Hence,  though  the  ensuing  text  may  lack  nothing  in  straightfor- 
wardness of  assertion,  and  seem  impossible  to  misunderstand,  it  may  be 
worth  while  to  say  distinctly,  here  at  the  start,  that  it  is  all  true.  We 
actually  did  make  such  an  excursion,  in  such  cars,  and  with  such  equip- 
ments, as  I  have  described  ;  and  we  would  like  to  do  it  again. 

It  was  wild  and  rough  in  many  respects.  Re-arranging  the  trip,  lux- 
iiries  might  be  added,  and  certain  inconveniences  avoided  ;  but  I  doubt 
whether,  in  so  doing,  we  should  greatly  increase  the  pleasure  or  the  profit. 

"No  man  should  desire  a  soft  life,"  wrote  King  Alfred  the  Great. 
Roughing  it,  within  reasonable  grounds,  is  the  marrow  of  this  sort  of  recre- 
ation. What  a  pungent  and  wholesome  savor  to  the  healthy  taste  there  is  in 
the  very  phrase  !  The  zest  with  which  one  goes  about  an  expedition  of  any 
kind  in  the  Rocky  Mountains  is  phenomenal  in  itself  ;  I  despair  of  making  it 
credited  or  comprehended  by  inexperienced  lowlanders.  We  are  told  that  the 
joys  of  Paradise  will  not  only  actually  be  greater  than  earthly  pleasures,  but 
that  they  will  be  further  magnified  by  our  increased  spiritual  sensitiveness  to 
the  "good  times"  of  heaven.  Well,  in  the  same  way,  the  senses  are  so 
quickened  by  the  clear,  vivifying  climate  of  the  western  uplands  in  summer, 
that  an  experience  is  tenfold  more  pleasurable  there  than  it  could  become  in 
the  Mississippi  valley.  I  elsewhere  have  had  something  to  say  about  this 
exhilaration  of  body  and  soul  in  the  high  Rockies,  which  you  will  perhaps 
pardon  me  for  repeating  briefly,  for  it  was  written  honestly,  long  ago,  and 
outside  of  the  present  connection. 

"At  sunrise  breakfast  is  over,  the  mules  and  everybody  else  have  been 
good-natured  and  you  feel  the  glory  of  mere  existence  as  you  vault  into  the 
saddle  and  break  into  a  gallop.  Not  that  this  or  that  particular  day  is  so 
different  from  other  pleasant  mornings,  but  all  that  we  call  the  weather 
is  constituted  in  the  most  perfect  proportions.  The  air  is  '  nimble  and 
sweet,'  and  you  ride  gayly  across  meadows,  through  sunny  woods  of  pine 
and  aspen,  and  between  granite  knolls  that  are  piled  up  in  the  most  noble 
and  romantic  proportions.  . 

"  Sometimes  it  seems,  when  camp  is  reached,  that  one  hardly  has 
strength  to  make  another  move  ;  but  after  dinner  one  finds  himself  able  and 
willing  to  do  a  great  deal.  .  . 

"One's  sleep  in  the  crisp  air,  after  the  fatigues  of  the  day,  is  sound  and 

5 


6  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

serene.  .  .  You  awake  at  daylight  a  little  chilly,  re-adjust  your  blankets, 
and  want  again  to  sleep.  The  sun  may  pour  forth  from  the  '  golden  win- 
dow of  the  east '  and  flood  the  world  with  limpid  light  ;  the  stars  may  pale 
and  the  jet  of  the  midnight  sky  be  diluted  to  that  pale  and  perfect  morning- 
blue  into  which  you  gaze  to  unmeasured  depths  ;  the  air  may  become  a  per- 
vading Champagne,  dry  and  delicate,  every  draught  of  which  tingles  the 
lungs  and  spurs  the  blood  along  the  veins  with  joyous  speed  ;  the  landscape 
may  woo  the  eyes  with  airy  undulations  of  prairie  or  snow-pointed  pinnacles 
lifted  sharply  against  the  azure — yet  sleep  chains  you.  That  very  quality  of 
the  atmosphere  which  contributes  to  all  this  beauty  and  makes  it  so  delicious 
to  be  awake,  makes  it  equally  blessed  to  slumber.  Lying  there  in  the  open 
air,  breathing  the  pure  elixir  of  the  untainted  mountains,  you  come  to  think 
even  the  confinement- of  a  flapping  tent  oppressive,  and  the  ventilation  of  a 
sheltering  spruce-bough  bad." 

That  was  written  out  of  a  sincere  enthusiasm,  which  made  as  naught  a 
whole  season's  hardship  and  work,  before  there  was  hardly  a  wagon-road, 
much  less  a  railway,  beyond  the  front  range. 

This  exordium,  my  friendly  reader,  is  all  to  show  to  you:  That  we 
went  to  the  Rockies  and  beyond  them,  as  we  say  we  did  ;  that  we  knew  what 
we  were  after,  and  found  the  apples  of  these  Hesperides  not  dust  and  ashes 
but  veritable  golden  fruit ;  and,  finally,  that  you  may  be  persuaded  to  test 
for  yourself  this  natural  and  lasting  enjoyment. 

The  grand  and  alluring  mountains  are  still  there, — everlasting  hills, 
unchangeable  refuges  from  weariness,  anxiety  and  strife  !  The  railway 
grows  wider  and  permits  a  longer  and  even  more  varied  journey  than  was 
ours.  Cars  can  be  fitted  up  as  we  fitted  ours,  or  in  a  way  as  much  better  as 
you  like.  Year  by  year  the  facilities  for  wayside  comforts  and  short  branch- 
excursions  are  multiplied,  with  the  increase  of  population  and  culture. 

If  you  are  unable,  or  do  not  choose,  to  undertake  all  this  preparation,  I 
still  urge  upon  you  the  pleasure  and  utility  of  going  to  the  Rocky  Mountains, 
travelling  into  their  mighty  heart  in  comfortable  and  luxurious  public  con- 
veyances. Nowhere  will  a  holiday  count  for  more  in  rest,  and  in  food  for 
subsequent  thought  and  recollection. 


CONTENTS. 


I  —  AT  THE  BASE  OF  THE  ROCKIES. 

First  Impressions  of  the  Mountains.  A  Problem,  and  its  Solution.  Denver— Descriptive 
and  Historical.  The  Resources  which  Assure  its  Future.  Some  General  Infor- 
mation concerning  the  Mining,  Stock  Raising  and  Agricultural  Interests  of  Colo- 
rado. -  -  *  -  13 

II  —  ALONG  THE  FOOTHILLS. 

The  Expedition  Moves.  Its  Personnel.  The  Romantic  Attractions  of  the  Divide.  Light 
on  Monument  Park.  Colorado  Springs,  a  City  of  Homes,  of  Morality  and  Culture. 
Its  Pleasant  Environs:  Glen  Eyrie,  Blair  Athol,  Austin's  Glen,  the  Cheyenne 
Canons.  ...  _  _  .  -  26 

III  —  A  MOUNTAIN  SPA. 

Manitou,  and  the  Mineral  Springs.  The  Ascent  of  Pike's  Peak  ;  bronchos  and  blue  noses. 
Ute  Pass,  and  Rainbow  Falls.  The  Garden  of  the  Gods.  Manitou  Park.  Williams' 
Canon,  and  the  Cave  of  the  Winds.  An  Indian  Legend.  -  36 

IV  —  PUEBLO  AND  ITS  FURNACES. 

The  Largest  Smelter  in  the  World.  The  Colorado  Coal  and  Iron  Company.  Pueblo's 
Claims  as  a  Trade  Center,  and  its  Tributary  Railway  System.  A  Chapter  of  Facts 
and  Figures  in  support  of  the  New  Pittsburgh.  -  51 

V  —  OVER  THE  SANGRE  DE  CRISTO. 

Up  and  down  Veta  Mountain,  with  some  Extracts  from  a  letter.  Veta  Pass,  and  the 
Muleshoe  Curve.  Spanish  Peaks.  Beautiful  Scenery,  and  Famous  Railroading.  A 
general  outline  of  the  Rocky  Mountain  Ranges.  -  -  -  60 

VI  — SAN  Luis  PARK. 

A  Fertile  and  Well -watered  Valley.  The  Method  of  Irrigation.  Sierra  Blanca.  A 
Digression  to  describe  the  Home  on  Wheels.  Alamosa,  Antonito  and  Conejos. 
Cattle,  Sheep  and  Agriculture  in  the  largest  Mountain  Park.  -  71 

VII  —  THE  INVASION  OF  NEW  MEXICO. 

Barranca,  among  the  Sunflowers.  An  Excursion  to  Ojo  Caliente,  and  Description  of  the 
Hot  Springs.  Pre-historic  Relics— a  Rich  Field  for  the  Archaeologist.  Senor  vs. 
Burro  An  Ancient  Church,  with  its  Sacred  Images.  -  -  8l 

7 


8  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

VIII  — EL  MEXICANO  Y  PUEBLOANO. 

Comanche  Canon  and  Embudo  The  Penitentes.  The  Rio  Grande  Valley ;  Alcalde, 
Chamita  and  Espanola.  New  Mexican  Life,  Homes  and  Industries.  The  Indian 
Pueblos,  and  their  Strange  History.  Architecture  Pottery,  and  Threshing.  92 

IX  —  SANTA  FE  AND  THE  SACRED  VALLEY. 

Santa  Fe,  the  Oldest  City  in  the  United  States.  Fact  and  Tradition.  San  Fernandez  de 
Taos — the  Home  of  Kit  Carson.  Pueblo  de  Taos  Birthplace  of  Montezuma,  and 
Typical  and  Well-  Preserved.  The  Festival  of  St.  Geronimo.  Exit  Amos.  -  106 

X  —  TOLTEC  GORGE. 

Heading  for  the  San  Juan  Country.  From  Mesa  to  Mountain  Top.  The  Curl  of  the 
Whiplash.  Above  the  silvery  Los  Pinos.  Phantom  Curve.  A  Startling  Peep  from 
Toltec  Tunnel.  Eva  Cliff.  "  In  Memoriam."  -  -  -  -  115 

XI  —  ALONG  THE  SOUTHERN  BORDER. 

The  Pinos-Chama  Summit.  Trout  and  Game.  The  Groves  of  Chama.  Mexican  Rural 
Life  at  Tierra  Amarilla.  The  Iron  Trail.  Rio  San  Juan  and  its  Tributaries. 
Pagosa  Springs.  Apache  Visitors.  The  Southern  Utes.  Durango.  -  120 

XII  —  THE  QUEEN  OF  THE  CANONS. 

Geology  of  the  Sierra  San  Juan.  The  Attractions  of  Trimble  Springs.  Beauty  and 
Fertility  of  the  Animas  Valley.  The  Canon  of  the  River  of  Lost  Souls.  Engineering 
under  difficulties.  The  Needles,  and  Garfield  Peak.  -  129 

XIII  —  SILVER  SAN  JUAN. 

Geological  Resume.  Scraps  of  History.  Snow-shoes  and  Avalanches.  The  Mining 
Camps  of  Animas  Forks,  Mineral  Point,  Eureka  and  Howardville.  Early  Days 
in  Baker's  Park.  Poughkeepsie,  Picayune  and  Cunningham  Gulches.  The 
Hanging.  -  --  ---136 

XIV  —  BEYOND  THE  RANGES. 

Ophir,  Rico,  and  the  La  Plata  Mountains.  Everything  triangular.  Mixed  Mineralogy, 
Real  bits  of  Beauty.  "  When  I  sell  my  Mine."  An  Unbiased  Opinion.  Placer 
vs.  Fissure  Vein  Mining.  -  149 

XV  —  THE  ANTIQUITIES  OF  THE  Rio  SAN  JUAN. 

Rugged  Trails.  Searching  for  Antiquities.  The  Discovery.  Habitations  of  a  Lost 
Race.  Prehistoric  Architecture,  "  Temple  or  Refrigerator."  u  Ruins,  Ancient 
beyond  all  Knowing."  Guesses  and  Traditions.  Some  Appropriate  Verses.  156 

XVI  —  ON  THE  UPPER  Rio  GRANDE. 

Good-bye  and  Welcome.  Del  Norte  and  the  Gold  Summit.  Among  the  River  Ranches. 
Wagon  Wheel  Springs.  Healing  Power  of  the  Waters.  The  Gap  and  its  History. 
A  Day's  Trout  Fishing.  -  166 

XVII  —  EL  MORO  AND  CANON  CITY. 

A  Great  Natural  Fortress.  Down  ia  a  Coal  Mine.  The  Coke  Ovens.  Huerfano  Park 
and  its  Coal.  Canon  City  Historically.  Coal  Measures.  Resources  of  the  Foot- 
hills. -  -  177 


CONTENTS.  9 

XVIII  —  IN  THE  WET  MOUNTAIN  VALLEY. 

Grape  Creek  Canon.  The  Dome  of  the  Temple.  Wet  Mountain  Valley.  The  Legend 
of  Rosita.  Hardscrabble  District.  Silver  Cliff  and  its  Strange  Mine.  The 
Foothills  of  the  Sierra  Mojada.  Geological  Theories.  -  -  185 

XIX  —  THE  ROYAL  GORGE. 

The  Grand  Canon  of  the  Arkansas.  Its  Culminating  Chasm  the  Royal  Gorge.  Beetling 
Cliffs  and  Narrow  Waters.  Running  the  Gauntlet.  Wonders  of  Plutonic  Force. 
A  Story  of  the  Canon.  -  -  193 

XX  —  THE  ARKANSAS  VALLEY. 

Entering  Brown's  Canon.  The  Iron  Mines  of  Calumet.  Salida.  Farming  on  the  Arkansas. 
Buena  Vista.  Granate  and  its  Gold  Placers, — Twin  Lakes.  Malta  and  its  Charcoal 
Burners.  A  Burned-out  Gulch.  -  -  201 

XXI  —  CAMP  OF  THE  CARBONATES. 

California  Gulch.  How  Boughtown  was  Built.  Some  Lively  Scenes.  Discovery  of 
Carbonates.  The  Rush  of  1878.  The  Founding  of  Leadville.  A  Happy  Grave 
Digger.  Practice  and  Theory  of  Mining.  Reducing  the  Ores.  -  -  209 

XXII  —  ACROSS  THE  TENNESSEE  AND  FREMONT'S  PASS. 

Hay  Meadows  on  the  Upper  Arkansas.  Climbing  Tennessee  Pass.  Mount  of  the  Holy 
Cross.  Red  Cliff.  Ore  in  Battle  Mountain.  Through  Eagle  River  Canon.  The 
Artist's  Elysium.  Two  Miles  in  the  Air.  On  the  Blue.  -  -  -  222 

XXIII  —  FROM  PONCHO  SPRINGS  TO  VILLA  GROVE. 

In  Hot  Water.  A  Pretty  Village  and  Fine  Outlook.  Pluto's  Reservoirs.  The  Madame's 
Letter.  Poncho  Pass.  The  Sangre  de  Cristo  Again.  Villa  Grove.  Silver  and 
Iron.  ........  225 

XXIV  —  THROUGH  MARSHALL  PASS. 

The  Unknown  Gunnison.  A  Wonder  of  Progress.  Climbing  the  Mountains  in  a  Parlor 
Car.  Four  Hours  of  Scenic  Delight.  Culmination  of  Man's  Skill.  On  the  Crest  of 
the  Continent.  The  Mysterious  Descent.  -  243 

XXV  —  GUNNISON  AND  CRESTED  BUTTE. 

Tomichi  Valley.  Gunnison  from  Oregon  to  St.  Louis.  Captain  Gunnison's  Discoveries. 
A  Discussion  with  Chief  Ouray.  A  Beautiful  Landscape.  Crested  Butte. 
Anthracite  in  the  Rockies.  ______  250 

XXVI  — A  TRIP  TO  LAKE  CITY. 

Lake  City.  A  Picture  from  Nature.  A  Hard  Pillow.  The  Mining  Interests.  Alpine 
Grandeur  of  the  Scenery.  The  Home  of  the  Bear  and  the  Elk.  Game,  Game, 
Game.  -  -  262 

XXVII  —  IMPRESSIONS  OF  THE  BLACK  CANON. 

The  Observation  Car.  Gunnison  River.  Trout  Fishing  Again.  The  Rock  Cleft  in 
Twain.  A  Beautiful  Cataract.  A  Mighty  Needle.  The  Canon  Black  yet  Sunny. 
Impressions  of  the  Canon.  Majestic  Forms  and  Splendid  Colors.  -  -  266 


10  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

XXVIII  —  THE  UNCOMPAHGRE  VALLEY. 

Cline's  Ranch.  Montrose.  The  Madame  and  Chum  Respectfully  Decline.  The  Trip 
to  Ouray.  The  Military  Post.  Chief  Ouray's  Widow.  The  Road  on  the  Bluff. 
Hot  Springs.  Brilliant  Stars.  •  •  •  273 

XXIX  —  OURAY  AND  RED  MOUNTAIN. 

A  Pretty  Mountain  Town.  Trials  of  the  Prospectors.  A  Tradition.  From  Silverton  to 
Ouray  by  Wagon.  Enchanting  Gorges  and  Alluring  Peaks.  The  Yankee  Girl. 
A  Cave  of  Carbonates.  Vermillion  Cliffs.  Dallas  Station.  •  278 

XXX  —  MONTROSE  AND  DELTA. 

Playing  Billiards.  Caught  in  the  Act.  A  Well- Watered  District.  Coal  and  Cattle.  A 
Fruit  Garden.  A  Big  Irrigating  Ditch.  The  Snowy  Elk  Mountains.  A  Substan- 
tial Track.  A  Long  Bridge.  -  .  -  290 

XXXI  —  THE  GRAND  RIVER  VALLEY. 

An  Honest  Circular;  Grand  Junction.  Staking  Out  Ranches.  The  Recipe  for  Good 
Soil.  Watering  the  Valley.  Value  of  Water.  Some  Big  Corn  in  the  Far  West.  A 
Land  of  Plenty.  Going  West.  -  -  296 

XXXII  — THE  COLORADO  CANONS. 

A  Memorable  Night-Journey.  Skirting  the  Uncompahgre  Plateau.  Origin  of  the  Sierra 
La  Sal.  Crossing  the  Green  River.  Wonders  of  Erosive  Work.  An  Indian  Tra- 
dition. The  Marvelous  Canons  of  the  Colorado.  ....  303 

XXXIII  — CROSSING  THE  WASATCH. 

The  Tall  Cliffs  of  Price  River  and  Castle  Canon.  Castle  Gate.  The  Summit  of  the 
Wasatch.  "Indians!"  San  Pete  and  Sevier  Valleys.  "  Like  Iser  Rolling  Rapidly." 
Through  the  Canon  of  the  Spanish  Fork.  Mount  Nebo.  -  -  312 

XXXIV  — BY  UTAH  LAKES. 

Rural  Scenes  Beside  Lake  Utah.  Spanish  Fork,  Springville,  Provo  and  Nephi.  Relics  of 
Indian  Wars.  Pretty  Fruit  Sellers.  First  Sight  of  Deseret  and  the  Great  Salt  Lake. 
Ogden  and  Its  History.  --.....  y,-j 

XXXV  — SALT  LAKE  CITY. 

Sunday  in  Salt  Lake  City.  The  Tabernacle  and  the  Temple.  Early  Days  in  Utah. 
Shady  Trees  and  Sparkling  Brooks.  Social  Peculiarities  of  the  City.  Mining  and 
Mercantile  Prosperity.  Religious  Sects.  Schools  and  Seminaries.  -  324 

XXXVI  —  SALT  LAKE  AND  THE  WASATCH. 

The  Ride  to  Salt  Lake.  A  Salt  Water  Bath.  Keep  Your  Mouth  Shut.  The  Shore  of  the 
Lake.  An  Exciting  Chase.  A  Trip  to  Alta.  Stone  for  the  Temple.  An  Exhilar- 
ating Ride.  •  «  -  -  «  •  .  •  •  335 

XXXVII  —  Au  REVOIR. 

At  Last.  On  Jordan's  Banks.  Chum's  Grandfather.  Let  Every  Injun  Carry  his  Own 
Skillet.  The  Parting  Toast.  Good- Night.  «  -  -  .342 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGB 

GARFTELD  PEAK  -  Frontispiece. 

DENVER        -  17 

DEPOT  AT  PALMER  LAKE        ------  20 

PH(EBE's  ARCH        -                                                 -  21 

MONUMENT  PARK                              .....  24 

IN  QUEEN'S  CA$ON  ----...  28 

CHEYENNE  FALLS         .......  31 

IN  NORTH  CHEYENNE  CANON        .....  34 

A  GLIMPSE  OF  MANITOU  AND  PIKE'S  PEAK  -  37 

THE  MINERAL  SPRINGS      -                   ....  40 

PIKE'S  PEAK  TRAIL      -                             ....  45 

RAINBOW  FALLS      .......  49 

GARDEN  OF  THE  GODS  ---....  53 

ENTRANCE  TO  CAVE  OF  THE  WINDS         ....  57 

ALABASTER  HALL                   ......  62 

VETA  PASS    -                                         ....  67 

CREST  OF  VETA  MOUNTAIN     -                   ....  69 

SPANISH  PEAKS  FROM  VETA  PASS          ....  75 

SANGRE  DE  CRISTO  SUMMITS  ---...  73 

SIERRA  BLANCA       -                                       ...  83 

GJO  CALIENTE    ........  g6 

EMBUDO,  Rio  GRANDE  VALLEY    -         ....  89 

NEW  MEXICAN  LIFE     -                             ....  94 

A  PATRIARCH                                        ....  93 

MAID  AND  MATRON       .......  99 

OLD  CHURCH  OF  SAN  JUAN          -----  102 

PUEBLO  DE  TAGS                             107 

PHANTOM  CURVE     -                                                           -  112 

PHANTOM  ROCKS           .......  us 

IN  MEMORIAM                             .....  119 

TOLTEC  GORGE  •                             .                             -          -  125 

EVA  CLIFF    ........  130 

GARFIELD  MEMORIAL    .......  131 

NEAR  THE  PINOS-CHAMA  SUMMIT                               -         -  136 

CHIEFS  OF  THE  SOUTHERN  UTES       -         -         -         -          -  141 

CANON  OF  THE  Rio  DE  LAS  ANIMAS  146 

ON  THE  RIVER  OF  LOST  SOULS                   -         -         -         -  152 

ANTMAS  CASON  AND  THE  NEEDLES        ....  157 


12  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

PAGE 

SlLVERTON  AND  SULTAN  MOUNTAIN    -  -     162 

CLIFF  DWELLINGS  .......  168 

WAGON  WHEEL  GAP    .                   .                   -         -  -     173 

UP  THE  Rio  GRANDE         ......  173 

GRAPE  CREEK  CANON  -  ......     isi 

GRAND  CANON  OF  THE  ARKANSAS  186 
THE  ROYAL  GORGE       -                    -----     191 

BROWN'S  CANON       .......  194 

TWIN  LAKES       -                              -                    -          -  -     199 

THE  OLD  ROUTE  TO  LEADVILLE  -----  202 

THE  SHAFT  HOUSE        -  ....     204 

BOTTOM  OF  THE  SHAFT      •  205 
ATHWART  AN  INCLINE  -                    -----     206 

THE  JIG  DRILL       -  207 

FREMONT  PASS   -                              -                              -  -     211 

CASCADES  OF  THE  BLUE     ......  214 

MOUNT  OF  THE  HOLY  CROSS    -          -          -          -          -  -     219 

MARSHALL  PASS— EASTERN  SLOPE  223 

MARSHALL  PASS— WESTERN  SLOPE    -                              -  -     227 

CRESTED  BUTTE  MOUNTAIN  AND  LAKE   -  230 

RUBY  FALLS       -          -  -     232 

APPROACH  TO  THE  BLACK  CANON  235 

BLACK  CANON  OF  THE  GUNNISON       -                    -  -     241 

CURRECANTI  NEEDLE,  BLACK  CANON      .  247 

A  UTE  COUNCIL  FIRE  -  -     251 

OURAY                                                     -  255 

GATE  OF  LODORE  -     261 

WINNIE'S  GROTTO    .....                    -  264 

ECHO  ROCK        -  -     267 

GUNNISON' s  BUTTE  -  271 

BUTTES  OF  THE  CROSS                     -  -     274 

MARBLE  CANON       -  279 

GRAND  CANON  OF  THE  COLORADO      -  -     283 

GRAND  CA&ON,  FROM  TO-RO-WASP                             -  287 

EXPLORING  THE  WALLS  -    292 

CASTLE  GATE  297 

IN  SPANISH  FORK  CANON        -                   -  -     300 

TRAMWAY  IN  LITTLE  COTTONWOOD  CANON        -  305 

SALT  LAKE  CITY                              ...  -     311 

MORMON  TEMPLE,  TABERNACLE  AND  ASSEMBLY  HALL  325 

GREAT  SALT  T.AKR       ......  831 


I 

AT  THE  BASE  OF  THE  ROCKIES. 


OLD  WOODCOCK  says  that  if  Providence  had  not  made  him  a  justice  of  the  peace, 
he'd  have  been  a  vagabond  himself.  No  such  kind  interference  prevailed  in  my  case.  I 
was  a  vagabond  from  my  cradle.  I  never  could  be  sent  to  school  alone  like  other  children 
—they  always  had  to  see  me  there  safe,  and  fetch  me  back  again.  The  rambling  bump 
monopolized  my  whole  head.  I  am  sure  my  godfather  must  have  been  the  Wandering  Jew 
or  a  king's  messenger.  Here  I  am  again,  en  route,  and  sorely  puzzled  to  know  whither. — 
THE  LOITERIXGS  OF  ARTHUR  O'LEARY. 

HERE  are  the  Rocky  Mountains  ! '  I  strained  my 
eyes  in  the  direction  of  his  finger,  but  for  a  minute 
could  see  nothing.  Presently  sight  became  adjusted 
to  a  new  focus,  and  out  against  a  bright  sky  dawned 
slowly  the  undefined  shimmering  trace  of  something 
a  little  bluer.  Still  it  seemed  nothing  tangible.  It 
might  have  passed  for  a  vapor  effect  of  the  horizon,  had  not  the  driver 
called  it  otherwise.  Another  minute  and  it  took  slightly  more  certain 
shape.  It  cannot  be  described  by  any  Eastern  analogy;  no  other  far 
mountain  view  that  I  ever  saw  is  at  all  like  it.  If  you  have  seen 
those  sea-side  albums  which  ladies  fill  with  alga3  during  their  summer 
holiday,  and  in  those  albums  have  been  startled,  on  turning  over  a  page 
suddenly,  to  see  an  exquisite  marine  ghost  appear,  almost  evanescent  in 
its  faint  azure,  but  still  a  literal  existence,  which  had  been  called  up 
from  the  deeps,  and  laid  to  rest  with  infinite  delicacy  and  difficulty, — 
then  you  will  form  some  conception  of  the  first  view  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains.  It  is  impossible  to  imagine  them  built  of  earth,  rock,  any- 
thing terrestrial ;  to  fancy  them  cloven  by  horrible  chasms,  or  shaggy 
with  giant  woods.  They  are  made  out  of  the  air  and  the  sunshine 
which  show  them.  Nature  has  dipped  her  pencil  in  the  faintest  solu- 
tion of  ultramarine,  and  drawn  it  once  across  the  Western  sky  with  a 
hand  tender  as  Love's.  Then  when  sight  becomes  still  better  adjusted, 
you  find  the  most  delicate  division  taking  place  in  this  pale  blot  of 
beauty,  near  its  upper  edge.  It  is  rimmed  with  a  mere  thread  of 
opaline  and  crystalline  light.  For  a  moment  it  sways  before  you  and 
is  confused.  But  your  eagerness  grows  steadier,  you  see  plainer  and 
know  that  you  are  looking  on  the  everlasting  snow,  the  ice  that  never 
melts.  As  the  entire  fact  in  all  its  meaning  possesses  you  completely, 
you  feel  a  sensation  which  is  as  new  to  your  life  as  it  is  impossible 
of  repetition.  I  confess  (I  should  be  ashamed  not  to)  that  my  first 

13 


14  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

view  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  had  no  way  of  expressing  itself  save  in 
tears.  To  see  what  they  looked,  and  to  know  what  they  were,  was  like 
a  sudden  revelation  of  the  truth  that  the  spiritual  is  the  only  real  and 
substantial;  that  the  eternal  things  of  the  universe  are  they  which,  afar 
off,  seem  dim  and  faint." 

There  are  the  Rocky  Mountains !  Ludlow  saw  them  after  days  of 
rough  riding  in  a  dusty  stage-coach.  Our  plains  journey  had  been  a 
matter  of  a  few  hours  only,  and  in  the  luxurious  ease  of  a  Pullman 
sleeping  car;  but  our  hearts,  too,  were  stirred,  and  we  eagerly  watched 
them  rise  higher  and  higher,  and  perfect  their  ranks,  as  we  threaded  the 
bluffs  into  Pueblo.  Then  there  they  were  again,  all  the  way  up  to 
Denver;  and  when  we  arose  in  the  morning  and  glanced  out  of  the 
hotel  window,  the  first  objects  our  glad  eyes  rested  on  were  the  snow- 
tipped  peaks  filling  the  horizon. 

Thither  Madame  mafemme  and  I  proposed  to  ourselves  to  go  for  an 
early  autumn  ramble,  gathering  such  friends  and  accomplices  as  pre- 
sented themselves.  But  how?  That  required  some  study.  There  were 
no  end  of  ways.  We  were  given  advice  enough  to  make  a  substantial 
appendix  to  the  present  volume,  though  I  suspect  that  it  would  be  as  use- 
less to  print  it  for  you  as  it  was  to  talk  it  to  us.  We  could  walk.  We 
could  tramp,  with  burros  to  carry  our  luggage,  and  with  or  without 
other  burros  to  carry  ourselves.  We  could  form  an  alliance,  offensive  and 
defensive,  with  a  number  of  pack  mules.  We  could  hire  an  ambulance 
sort  of  wagon,  with  bedroom  and  kitchen  and  all  the  other  attach- 
ments. We  could  go  by  railway  to  certain  points,  and  there  diverge.  Or, 
as  one  sober  youth  suggested,  we  needn't  go  at  all.  But  it  remained 
for  us  to  solve  the  problem  after  all.  As  generally  happens  in  this  life 
of  ours,  the  fellow  who  gets  on  owes  it  to  his  own  momentum,  for 
the  most  part.  It  came  upon  us  quite  by  inspiration.  We  jumped  to 
the  conclusion  ;  which,  as  the  Madame  truly  observed,  is  not  altogether 
wrong  if  only  you  look  before  you  leap.  That  is  a  good  specimen  of 
feminine  logic  in  general,  and  the  Madame's  in  particular. 

But  what  was  the  inspiration  —  the  conclusion  —  the  decision?  You 
are  all  impatience  to  know  it,  of  course.  It  was  this : 

Charter  a  train ! 

Recovering  our  senses  after  this  startling  generalization,  particulars 
came  in  order.  Spreading  out  the  crisp  and  squarely-folded  map  of 
Colorado,  we  began  to  study  it  with  novel  interest,  and  very  quickly 
discovered  that  if  our  brilliant  inspiration  was  really  to  be  executed, 
we  must  confine  ourselves  to  the  narrow-gauge  lines.  Tracing  these 
with  one  prong  of  a  hairpin,  it  was  apparent  that  they  ran  almost 
everywhere  in  the  mountainous  parts  of  the  State,  and  where  they 
did  not  go  now  they  were  projected  for  speedy  completion.  Closer 
inspection,  as  to  the  names  of  the  lines,  discovered  that  nearly  all 


SOLUTION  OF  A  PROBLEM  19 

of  this  wide-branching  system  bore  the  mystical  letters  D.  &  R.  G., 
which  evidently  enough  (after  you  had  learned  it)  stood  for — 

"  Why,  Denver  and  Ryo  Grand,  of  course,"  exclaims  the  Madame, 
contemptuous  of  any  one  who  didn't  know  that. 

"Not  by  a  long  shot!"  I  reply  triumphantly,  "Denver  and  Reeo 
Grandy  is  the  name  of  the  railway — Mexican  words." 

"  Oh.  indeed !  "  is  what  I  7iear;  a  very  lofty  nose,  naturally  a  trifle 
uppish,  is  what  I  see. 

Deciding  that  our  best  plan  is  to  take  counsel  with  the  officers  of 
the  Denver  and  Rio  Grande  railway,  we  go  immediately  to  interview  Mr. 
Hooper,  the  General  Passenger  Agent,  among  whose  many  duties  is  that 
of  receiving,  counseling,  and  arranging  itineraries  for  all  sorts  of  pil- 
grims. An  hour's  discussion  perfected  our  arrangements,  and  set  the 
workmen  at  the  shops  busy  in  preparing  the  cars  for  our  migatory 
residence. 

The  realization  that  our  scheme,  which  up  to  this  point  had 
seemed  akin  to  a  wild  dream,  was  now  rapidly  growing  into  a  promising 
reality,  did  not  diminish  our  enthusiasm.  Indeed  we  experienced  an 
exhilaration  which  was  quite  phenomenal.  Was  it  the  very  light  wine 
we  partook  at  luncheon?  Perish  the  suspicion!  Possibly  it  was  the 
popularly  asserted  effect  of  the  rarefied  atmosphere.  But  kinder  to  our 
self-esteem  th«m  either  of  these  was  the  thought  that  our  approaching 
journey  had  something  to  do  with  our  elevation,  and  we  accepted  it  as 
an  explanation. 

But  we  had  yet  a  few  days  to  spare,  and  we  could  employ  them 
profitably  in  looking  over  this  Denver,  the  marvelous  city  of  the  plains. 
We  studied  it  first  from  Capitol  Hill,  as  our  artist  has  done,  though 
his  picture,  so  excellently  reproduced,  can  convey  but  the  shadow  of 
the  substance.  Then  we  nearly  encompassed  the  town,  going  south- 
ward on  Broadway  until  we  had  passed  Cherry  Creek,  and  detouring 
across  Platte  River  to  the  westward  and  northward,  on  the  high  plateau 
which  stretches  away  to  the  foothills.  The  city  lies  at  an  altitude  of 
5,197  feet,  near  the  western  border  of  the  plains,  and  within  twelve 
miles  of  the  mountains, —  the  Colorado  or  front  range  of  which  may  be 
seen  for  an  extent  of  over  two  hundred  miles.  In  the  north,  Long's 
Peak  rears  its  majestic  proportions  against  the  azure  sky.  Westward, 
Mounts  Rosalie  and  Evans  rise  grandly  "bove  the  other  summits  of 
the  snowy  range,  and  Gray's  and  James'  Peaks  r  ~"er  from  among  their 
gigantic  brethren;  wi.:1^  historic  Pike's  Peak,  the  uJ  Mv  landmark 
that  guided  the  gold-hunters  of  '59,  plainly  shows  its  white  ^  -.<  "Vhty 
miles  to  the  south.  The  great  plains  stretch  out  for  hundreds  ot  ^./et 
to  the  north,  east  and  south.  Near  the  smelting  works  at  Argo,  we 
retrace  our  way  and  re-enter  the  city. 

It  is  the  metropolis  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and  a  stroll  through 
these  scores  of  solid  blocks  of  salesrooms  and  factories  exhibits  at  once 


16         THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

the  fact  that  it  is  as  the  commercial  center  of  the  mountainous  interior 
that  Denver  thrives,  and  congratulates  herself  upon  the  promise  of  a 
continually  prosperous  future.  She  long  ago  safely  passed  that  crisis 
which  has  proved  fatal  to  so  many  incipient  Western  cities.  Every  year 
proves  anew  the  wisdom  and  foresight  of  her  founders;  and  I  think  her 
assertion  that  she  is  to  be  the  largest  city  between  Chicago  and  San 
Francisco  is  likely  to  be  realized.  Most  of  her  leading  business  men 
came  here  at  the  beginning,  but  their  energies  were  hampered  when  every 
article  had  to  be  hauled  six  hundred  miles  across  the  plains  by  teams. 
It  frequently  used  to  happen  that  merchants  would  sell  their  goods  com- 
pletely out,  put  up  their  shutters  and  go  a-fishing  for  weeks,  before  the 
new  semi-yearly  supplies  arrived.  Everybody  therefore  looked  forward, 
with  good  reason,  to  railway  communication  as  the  beginning  of  a  new 
era  of  prosperity,  and  watched  with  keen  interest  the  approach  of  the 
Union  Pacific  lines  from  Omaha  and  Kansas  City.  These  were  com- 
pleted, by  the  northern  routes,  in  1869  and  1870;  and  a  few  months  later 
the  enterprising  Atchison,  Topeka  and  Santa  Fe  sent  its  tracks  and  trains 
through  to  the  mountains,  and  then  came  the  Burlington  route,  a  most 
welcome  acquisition,  adding  another  link  to  the  transcontinental  chain, 
which  now  binds  the  East  to  the  West,  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific  coast. 
At  Pueblo,  the  Denver  and  Rio  Grande,  meeting  the  Atchison,  Topeka 
and  Santa  Fe,  was  already  prepared  to  make  this  new  route  available  to 
Denver  and  much  of  Colorado,  and  adopting  a  liberal  policy,  at  once 
exerted  an  immense  influence  upon  the  speedy  development  and  pros- 
perity of  the  State. 

Thus,  in  a  year  or  two,  the  young  city  found  itself  removed  from 
total  isolation  to  a  central  position  on  various  railways,  east  and  west, 
and  to  its  mill  came  the  varied  grist  of  a  circle  hundreds  of  miles  in 
radius.  Now  blossomed  the  booming  season  of  business  which  saga- 
cious eyes  had  foreseen.  The  town  had  less  than  four  thousand  inhab- 
itants in  1870.  A  year  from  that  time  her  population  was  nearly  fifteen 
thousand,  and  her  tax-valuation  had  increased  from  three  to  ten  millions 
of  dollars.  It  was  a  time  of  happy  investment,  of  incessant  building 
and  improvement,  and  of  grand  speculation.  Mines  flourished,  crops 
were  abundant,  cattle  and  sheep  grazed  in  a  hundred  valleys  hitherto 
tenanted  by  antelope  alone,  and  everybody  had  plenty  of  money. 
Then  came  a  shadow  of  storm  in  the  East,  and  the  sound  of  the  thun- 
der-clap of  1873  was  heard  in  Denver,  if  the  bolt  of  the  panic  was  not 
felt.  The  banks  suddenly  became  cautious  in  Ic^ns;  speculators  declined 
to  buy,  and  sold  at  a  sacrifice.  Merchants  found  that  trade  was  dull, 
and  ranchmen  got  less  for  their  products.  It  was  a  "  set-back  "  to  Den- 
ver, and  two  years  of  stagnation  followed.  But  she  only  dug  the  more 
money  out  of  the  ground  to  fill  her  depleted  pockets,  and  survived  the 
"hard  times"  with  far  less  sacrifice  of  fortune  and  pride  than  did  most 
of  the  Eastern  cities.  None  of  her  banks  went  under,  nor  even  certified 


18  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

a  check,  and  most  of  her  business  houses  weathered  the  storm.  The 
unhealthy  reign  of  speculation  was  effectually  checked,  and  business  was 
placed  upon  a  compact  and  solid  foundation.  Then  came  1875  and  1876, 
which  were  "grasshopper  years,"  when  no  crops  of  consequence  were 
raised  throughout  the  State,  and  a  large  amount  of  money  was  sent  East 
to  pay  for  flour  and  grain.  This  was  a  particularly  hard  blow,  but  the 
bountiful  harvest  of  1877  compensated,  and  the  export  of  beeves  and 
sheep,  with  their  wool,  hides  and  tallow,  was  the  largest  ever  made 
up  to  that  time. 

The  issue  of  this  successful  year  with  miner,  farmer  and  stock- 
ranger,  yielding  them  more  than  $15,000,000.  a  large  proportion  of  which 
was  an  addition  to  the  intrinsic  wealth  of  the  world,  had  an  almost 
magical  effect  upon  the  city.  Commerce  revived,  a  buoyant  feeling  pre- 
vailed among  all  classes,  and  merchants  enjoyed  a  remunerative  trade. 
Money  was  "  easy,"  rents  advanced,  and  the  real  estate  business  assumed 
a  healthier  tone.  Generous  patronage  of  the  productive  industries 
throughout  the  whole  State  was  made  visible  in  the  quickened  trade 
of  the  city,  which  rendered  the  year  an  important  one  in  the  history 
of  Denver's  progress.  So,  out  of  the  barrenness  of  the  cactus-plain, 
and  through  this  turbulent  history,  has  arisen  a  cultivated  and  beau- 
tiful city  of  75,000  people,  which  is  truly  a  metropolis.  Her  streets 
are  broad,  straight,  and  everywhere  well  shaded  with  lines  of  cotton- 
woods  and  maples,  abundant  in  foliage  and  of  graceful  shape.  On  each 
side  of  every  street  flows  a  constant  stream  of  water,  often  as  clear 
and  cool  as  a  mountain  brook.  The  source  is  a  dozen  miles  southward, 
whence  the  water  is  conducted  in  an  open  channel.  There  are  said  to 
be  over  260  miles  of  these  irrigating  ditches  or  gutters,  and  250,000 
shade-trees. 

For  many  blocks  in  the  southern  and  western  quarter  of  the  town, 
— from.  Fourteenth  to  Thirtieth  streets,  and  from  Arapahoe  to  Broadway 
and  the  new  suburbs  beyond — you  will  see  only  elegant  and  comfortable 
houses.  Homes  succeed  one  another  in  endlessly  varying  styles  of 
architecture,  and  vie  in  attractiveness,  each  surrounded  by  lawns  and 
gardens  abounding  in  flowers.  All  look  new  and  ornate,  while  some 
of  the  dwellings  of  wealthy  citizens  are  palatial  in  size  and  furnishing, 
and  with  porches  well  occupied  during  the  long,  cool  twilight  character- 
istic of  the  summer  evening  in  this  climate,  giving  a  very  attractive  air 
of  opulence  and  ease.  Even  the  stranger  may  share  in  the  general 
enjoyment,  for  never  was  there  a  city  with  so  many  and  such  pleasant 
hotels,  the  largest  of  which,  the  Windsor  and  the  St.  James,  are  worthy 
of  Broadway  or  Chestnut  street. 

The  power  which  has  wrought  all  this  change  in  a  short  score  of 
years,  truly  making  the  desert  to  bloom,  is  water ;  or,  more  correctly, 
that  is  the  great  instrument  used,  for  the  power  is  the  will  and  pride  of 
the  intelligent  men  and  women  who  form  the  leading  portion  of  the  citi- 


A  MOUNTAIN  METROPOLIS  19 

zens.  Water  is  pumped  from  the  Platte,  by  the  Holly  system,  and  forced 
over  the  city  with  such  power  that  in  case  of  fire  no  steam-engine  is 
necessary  to  send  a  strong  stream  through  the  hose.  The  keeping  of  a 
turf  and  garden,  after  it  is  once  begun,  is  merely  a  matter  of  watering. 
The  garden  is  kept  moist  mainly  by  flooding  from  the  irrigating  ditch  in 
the  street  or  alley,  but  the  turf  of  the  lawn  and  the  shrubbery  owe  their 
greenness  to  almost  incessant  sprinkling  by  the  hand-hose.  Fountains 
are  placed  in  nearly  every  yard.  After  dinner  (for  Denver  dines  at  five 
o'clock  as  a  rule),  the  father  of  the  house  lights  his  cigar  and  turns  hose- 
man  for  an  hour,  while  he  chats  with  friends;  or  the  small  boys  bribe 
each  other  to  let  them  lay  the  dust  in  the  street,  to  the  imminent  peril 
of  passers-by ;  and  young  ladies  escape  the  too  engrossing  attention  of 
complimentary  admirers  by  busily  sprinkling  heliotrope  and  mignonette, 
hinting  at  a  possible  different  use  of  the  weapon  if  admiration  becomes 
too  ardent.  The  swish  and  gurgle  and  sparkle  of  water  are  always  pres- 
ent, and  always  must  be;  for  so  Denver  defies  the  desert  and  dissipates 
the  dreaded  dust. 

Their  climate  is  one  of  the  things  Denverites  boast  of.  That  the 
air  is  pure  and  invigorating  is  to  be  expected  at  a  point  right  out  on  a 
plateau  a  mile  above  sea- level,  with  a  range  of  snow-burdened  mountains 
within  sight.  From  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  warm  weather  it  rarely 
rains,  except  occasional  thunder  and  hail  storms  in  July  and  August. 
September  witnesses  a  few  storms,  succeeded  by  cool,  charming 
weather,  when  the  haze  and  smoke  is  filtered  from  the  bracing  air,  and 
the  landscape  robes  itself  in  its  most  enchanting  hues.  The  coldest 
weather  occurs  after  New  Year's  Day,  and  lasts  sometimes  until  April, 
Then  come  the  May  storms  and  floods,  followed  by  a  charming  summer. 
The  barometer  holds  itself  pretty  steady  throughout  the  year.  There  is 
a  vast  quantity  of  electricity  in  the  air,  and  the  displays  of  lightning 
are  magnificent  and  occasionally  destructive.  Sunshine  is  very  abun- 
dant. One  can  by  no  means  judge  from  the  brightest  day  in  New  York 
of  the  wonderful  glow  sunlight  has  here.  During  1884  there  were  205 
clear  days,  126  fair,  and  34  cloudy,  the  sun  being  totally  obscured  on 
only  18  days:  and  yet  this  record  is  more  unfavorable  than  the  average 
for  a  number  of  years.  Summer  heat  often  reaches  a  hundred  in  the 
shade  at  midday;  but  with  sunset  comes  coolness,  and  the  nights  allow 
refreshing  sleep.  In  winter  the  mercury  sometimes  sinks  twenty  degrees 
below  zero;  but  one  does  not  feel  this  severity  as  much  as  he  would  a  far 
less  degree  of  cold  in  the  damp,  raw  climate  of  the  coast.  Snow  is  fre- 
quent, but  rarely  plentiful  enough  for  sleighing. 

Denver  is  built  not  only  with  the  capital  of  her  own  citizens,  but 
constructed  of  materials  close  at  hand.  Very  substantial  bricks,  kilned 
in  the  suburbs,  are  the  favorite  material.  Then  there  is  a  pinkish  tra- 
chyte, almost  as  light  as  pumice,  and  ringing  under  a  blow  with  a  me- 
tallic clink,  that  is  largely  employed  in  trimmings.  Sandstone,  marble 


20 


THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 


and  limestone  are  abundant  enough  for  all  needs.  Coarse  lumber  is  sup- 
plied by  the  high  pine  forests,  but  all  the  hard  wood  and  fine  lumber 
is  brought  from  the  East.  The  fuel  of  the  city  was  formerly  wholly 
lignite  coal,  which  comes  from  the  foothills;  but  the  extension  of  the 
railway  to  Canon  City,  El  Moro  and  the  Gunnison,  have  made  the 
harder  and  less  sulphurous  coals  accessible  and  cheap. 

And  while  she  has  been  looking  well  after  the  material  attractions, 
Denver  has  kept  pace  with  the  progress  of  the  times  in  modern  advan- 
tages. She  is  very  proud  of  her  school-buildings,  constructed  and 
managed  upon  the  most  improved  plans;  of  her  fine  churches,  of  her 
State  and  county  offices,  her  seminaries  of  higher  learning,  and  of  her 
natural  history  and  historical  association.  Her  Grand  Opera  House  is 
the  most  elegant  on  the  continent,  her  business  blocks  are  extensive  and 
costly,  and  the  Union  Depot  ranks  with  the  best  of  similar  structures. 
Gas  was  introduced  several  years  ago,  and  the  system,  which  now  in- 
cludes nearly  all  sections  of  the  city,  is  being  constantly  improved  and 
extended.  The  Brush  electric  light  has  been  in  very  general  use  for 
nearly  three  years,  and  the  Edison  incandescent  lamps  are  now  being 


DEPOT   AT    PALMER    LAKE. 

employed.  The  telephone  is  found  in  hundreds  of  business  places 
and  residences,  the  exchange  at  the  close  of  last  year  numbering  709 
subscribers.  The  water  supply  is  distributed  through  forty  miles  of 
mains,  the  consumption  averaging  three  million  gallons  per  day,  exclu- 
sive of  the  contributions  of  the  irrigating  ditches  and  the  numerous  arte- 
sian wells.  The  steam  heating  works  evapprate  one  hundred  thousand 


MODERN  ADVANTAGES. 


21 


gallons  of  water  daily,  deliv- 
ering the  product  through 
three  miles  of  mains  and 
nearly  two  miles  of  service 
pipes;  this  being  the  only 
company  out  of  twenty  seven 
of  its  nature  in  the  country 
which  has  proved  a  finan- 
cial success.  Street  car  lines 
traverse  the  thoroughfares  in 
all  directions,  and  transport 
over  two  million  passengers 
annually.  Two  district  mes- 
senger companies  are  gener- 
ously patronized.  The  regu- 
lar police  force  consists  of 
some  forty-five  patrolmen  and 
detectives,  aside  from  the 
Chief  and  his  assistants ;  and 
a  distinct  organization  is  the 
Merchant's  Police, numbering  PHEBE'S  ARCH 

twenty  men.  A  paid  Fire  Department  is  maintained,  at  an  annual 
expense  of  $56,000,  and  the  alarm  system  embraces  twenty-six  miles  of 
wire  and  fifty  signal  boxes.  There  are  published  six  daily  newspapers, 
one  being  in  German,  and  a  score  of  weeklies.  All  are  well  conducted 
and  prosperous. 

A  branch  of  the  United  States  Mint  is  located  here,  but  is  used  for 
assays  only,  and  not  for  coinage.  An  appropriation  has  been  made  by 
Congress  for  a  handsome  building,  the  site  has  been  selected,  and  work 
is  now  being  pushed  forward.  The  post-office  is  a  source  of  considerable 
revenue  to  the  Government.  There  are  six  National  and  two  State 
banks,  with  a  paid  in  capital  of  $870,000,  and  showing  a  surplus  of 
$754  000  at  the  close  of  1883.  The  deposits  for  the  year  amounted  to 
$8,396,200,  and  the  loans  and  discounts  approximated  $4,500,000.  The 
shops  of  the  Denver  and  Rio  Grande  railway  are  doubtless  the  most  ex- 
tensive in  the  West,  employing  over  800  men,  and  turning  out  during 
the  year  2  express,  8  mail,  4  combination,  522  box,  303  stock,  25  refriger- 
ator, 197  flat,  and  300  coal  cars,  together  with  8  cabooses.  In  addition 
they  have  produced  350  frogs,  200  switch  stands,  and  all  the  iron  work 
for  the  bridges  on  350  miles  of  new  road.  The  year's  shipments  of  the 
Boston  and  Colorado  Smelting  Company  aggregate,  in  silver,  gold,  and 
copper,  $3,907,000;  and  in  the  same  time  the  Grant  smelter  has  treated, 
in  silver,  lead  and  gold,  $6,348,868.  Finally,  from  the  statistics  at  hand 
it  appears  that  the  volume  of  Denver's  trade  for  the  year  referred  to, 
apart  from  the  industries  above  mentioned,  and  real  estate  transactions, 


22  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

has -exceeded  the  snug  sum  of  $58,856,998.    In  the  meantime  the  taxable 
valuation  of  property  in  Arapahoe  county  has  increased  $6,600,000. 

These  facts  establish,  beyond  the  slightest  doubt,  the  truth  that  Den- 
ver stands  upon  a  firm  financial  basis.  This  the  casual  stranger  can 
hardly  fail  to  surmise  when  he  glances  at  her  magnificent  buildings,  and 
statistics  will  confirm  the  surmise. 

Denver  society  is  cosmopolitan.  Famous  and  brilliant  persons  are 
constantly  appearing  from  all  quarters  of  the  globe.  Five  hundred 
people  a  day,  it  is  said,  enter  Colorado,  and  nine-tenths  of  this  multi- 
tude pass  through  Denver.  Nowadays,  "the  tour"  of  the  United 
States  is  incomplete  if  this  mountain  city  is  omitted.  Thus  the  registers 
of  her  hotels  bear  many  foreign  autographs  of  world-wide  reputation. 
Surprise  is  often  expressed  by  the  critical  among  these  visitors  (why,  I 
do  not  understand)  at  the  totally  unexpected  degree  of  intelligence, 
appreciation  of  the  more  refined  methods  of  thought  and  handiwork, 
and  the  knowledge  of  science,  that  greet  them  here.  Matters  of  art  and 
music,  particularly,  find  friends  and  cultivation  among  the  educated  and 
generous  families  who  have  built  up  society;  and  there  are  schools  and 
associations  devoted  to  sustaining  the  interest  in  them,  just  as  there  are 
reading  circles  and  literary  clubs.  And,  withal,  there  is  the  most  charm- 
ing freedom  of  acquaintance  and  intercourse  —  the  polish  and  good- 
breeding  of  rank,  delivered  from  all  chill  and  exclusiveness  or  regard 
for  "who  was  your  grandfather."  Yet  this  winsome  good-fellowship 
by  no  means  descends  to  vulgarity,  or  permits  itself  to  be  abused.  After 
all,  it  is  only  New  York  and  New  England  and  Ohio,  transplanted  and 
considerably  enlivened. 

Returning  to  our  consideration  of  Denver's  resources,  it  will 
readily  be  seen  that  she  stands  as  the  supply-depot  and  money-receiver 
of  three  great  branches  of  industry  and  wealth,  namely,  mining,  stock- 
raising  and  agriculture. 

The  first  of  these  is  the  most  important.  Many  of  the  richest  pro- 
prietors live  and  spend  their  profits  here.  Then,  too.  the  machinery 
which  the  mining  and  the  reduction  of  the  ores  require,  and  the  tools, 
clothing  and  provisions  of  the  men,  mainly  come  from  here.  Long  ago 
ex-Governor  Gilpin,  worthily  one  of  the  most  famous  of  Colorado's 
representative  men,  and  an  enthusiast  upon  the  subject  of  her  virtues 
and  loveliness,  prophesied  the  immense  wealth  which  would  continue 
to  be  delved  from  the  crevices  of  her  rocky  frame,  and  was  called  a 
visionary  for  his  pains;  but  his  prophesies  have  aggregated  more  in  the 
fulfillment  than  they  promised  in  the  foretelling,  and  his  "visions" 
have  netted  him  a  most  satisfactory  fortune.  About  75,000  lodes  have 
been  discovered  in  Colorado,  and  numberless  placers.  Only  a  small 
proportion  of  these,  of  course,  were  worked  remuneratively,  but  the 
cash  yield  of  the  twenty  years  since  the  discovery  of  the  precious 
metals,  has  averaged  over  $7,000,000  a  year,  and  has  increased  from 


SOURCES  OF  WEALTH.  23 

$200,000  in  1869  to  over  $26,376,562  in  1883.  Not  half  of  this  is  gold, 
yet  it  is  only  since  1870  that  silver  has  been  mined  at  all  in  Colorado. 
These  statistics  show  the  total  yield  of  the  State  in  gold  and  silver  thus 
far  to  exceed  $154,000,000,  not  to  mention  tellurium,  copper,  iron,  lead 
and  coal.  Surely  this  alone  is  sufficient  employment  of  capital  and 
production  of  original  wealth  —  genuine  making  of  money — to  ensure 
the  permanent  support  of  the  city. 

The  second  great  source  of  revenue  to  Denver,  is  the  cattle  and 
sheep  of  the  State.  The  wonderful  worthless-looking  buffalo  grass, 
growing  in  little  tufts  so  scattered  that  the  dust  shows  itself  everywhere 
between,  and  turning  sere  and  shriveled  before  the  spring  rains  are 
fairly  over,  has  proved  one  of  Colorado's  most  prolific  avenues  of 
wealth.  The  herds  now  reported  in  the  State  count  up  1,461,945  head, 
and  the  annual  shipments  amount  to  100,000,  at  an  average  of  $20  apiece, 
giving  $2,000,000  as  the  yearly  yield.  Add  the  receipts  for  the  sales  of 
hides  and  tallow,  and  the  home  consumption,  amounting  to  about 
$60,000,  and  you  have  a  figure  not  far  from  $3,500,000  to  represent  the 
total  annual  income  from  this  branch  of  productive  industry.  The 
whole  value  of  the  cattle  investments  in  the  State  is  estimated  by  good 
judges  at  $14,000,000,  nearly  one-fourth  of  which  is  the  property  of 
citizens  of  Denver.  Yet  this  sum,  great  as  it  is  for  a  pioneer  region, 
represents  only  two-thirds  of  Colorado's  live  stock.  Last  year  about 
1,500,000  sheep  were  sheared,  and  more  capital  is  being  invested  in 
them.  Perhaps  the  total  value  of  sheep  ranches  is  not  less  than 
$5,000,000,  the  annual  income  from  which  approaches  $1,300,000. 

The  third  large  item  of  prosperity  is  agriculture,  although  it 
advances  in  the  face  of  much  opposition.  In  1883  the  production 
of  the  chief  crops  was  as  follows:  hay,  266,500  tons;  wheat,  1,750,- 
840  bushels;  oats,  1,186,534  bushels;  corn,  598,975  bushels;  barley, 
265,180  bushels;  rye,  78,030  bushels,  and  potatoes,  851,000  bushels.  Add 
to  this  vegetables  and  small  fruits,  and  the  yield  of  the  soil  in  Colorado 
is  brought  to  over  $9,000,000  in  value.  Farmers  are  learning  better  and 
better  how  to  produce  the  very  best  results  by  means  of  scientific  irriga- 
tion, and  the  tillage  is  annually  wider. 

Nor  is  this  the  whole  story.  Denver  is  rapidly  growing  into  a 
manufacturing  center.  Here  are  rolling  mills,  iron  foundries,  smelters, 
machine  shops,  woolen  mills,  shoe  factories,  glass  works,  carriage  and 
harness  factories,  breweries,  and  so  on  through  a  long  list.  The  flouring 
mills  are  very  valuable,  representing  an  investment  of  $350,000,  and 
handling  half  the  wheat  crop  of  Colorado.  I  have  dwelt  upon  these 
somewhat  prosy  statements  in  order  to  point  out  fully  what  rich  re- 
sources Denver  has  behind  her,  and  how  it  happens  that  she  finds  herself, 
at.  twenty-three  years  of  age,  amazingly  strong  commercially.  Not  only  a 
large  proportion  of  the  money  which  gives  existence  to  these  enterprises 
(nearly  every  householder  in  the  city  has  a  financial  interest  in  one  or 


24  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

several  mines,  stock  ranges  or  farms),  but,  as  I  have  intimated,  the 
current  supplies  that  sustain  them,  are  procured  in  Denver,  and  a  very 
la-ge  percentage  of  their  profits  finds  its  way  directly  to  this  focus. 
Denver  thus  becomes  to  all  Colorado  what  Paris  is  to  France. 


MONUMENT    PARK. 


Through  all  the  enormous  area,  from  Wyoming  far  into  New  Mexico, 
and  westward  to  Utah,  she  has  had  no  formidable  rival  until  South 
Pueblo  rose  to  contest  the  trade  of  all  the  southern  half  of  this  commer- 
cial territory.  That  she  advances  with  the  rapidly  thickening  popula- 


SOCIAL  AMENITIES.  25 

tion  of  the  State  and  its  increasing  needs,  is  apparent  to  every  one  who 
has  noted  the  gigantic  strides  with  which  Denver  has  grown,  and  the 
ease  with  which  she  wears  her  imperial  honors.  Every  extension  of  the 
railways,  every  good  crop,  every  new  mineral  district  developed,  every 
increase  of  stock  ranges,  directly  and  instantly  affects  the  great  central 
mart.  This  sound  business  basis  being  present,  the  opportunity  to  pleas- 
antly dispose  of  the  money  made  is,  of  course,  not  long  in  presenting 
itself.  It  thus  happens  that  Denver  shows,  in  a  wonderful  measure,  the 
amenities  of  intellectual  culture  that  make  life  so  attractive  in  the  old- 
established  centers  of  civilization,  where  selected  society,  thoughtful 
study,  and  the  riches  of  art,  have  ripened  to  maturity  through  long 
time  and  under  gracious  traditions.  There  is  an  abundance  here,  there- 
fore, to  please  the  eye  and  touch  the  heart  as  well  as  fill  the  pockets,  and 
year  by  year  the  city  is  becoming  more  and  more  a  desirable  place  in 
which  to  dwell  as  well  as  to  do  business. 


II 


ALONG  THE  FOOTHILLS. 


We've  left  behind  the  busy  town, 

Its  woof  and  warp  of  care; 
Our  course  is  down  the  foothills  brown 

To  a  Southern  city  fair. 


— STANLEY  II.  RAY. 


HILE  we  were  codifying  our  impressions  of  Denver,  the 
workmen  at  the  shops  had  been  busy.  We  were  busy, 
too,  in  other  than  literary  ways,  and  badgered  our 
new  acquaintances  at  the  railway  offices  at  all  sorts  of 
times  and  with  every  manner  of  want.  The  butcher 
and  baker  were  harassed,  and  jolly  old  Salomon,  the 
grocer,  came  in  for  his  share  of  the  nuisance.  But  it  didn't  last  long, 
for  one  afternoon,  just  three  days  from  the  birth  of  the  happy  thought, 
we  were  in  our  special  train  and  rushing  away  to  the  South. 

Not  till  then  did  this  haphazard  crowd  —  for  we  had  enlisted  three 
gentlemen  into  our  company  —  inquire  seriously  whither  we  were 
going.  What  did  it  matter?  We  were  wild  with  joy  because  of  going 
at  all.  Had  we  not  bed  and  provender  with  us?  Why  could  we  not 
go  on  always?  have  it  said  of  us  when  living,  Going,  going,  and  written 
over  us  when  dead  —  Gone  ! 

I  have  mentioned  three  companions  besides  the  Madame.  At  least 
two  of  the  gentlemen  you  would  recognize  at  once,  were  I  to  give  you 
their  names.  The  Artist  is  famed  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic  for  the 
masterly  productions  of  his  brush".  He  is  a  wide  traveler  and  an  enthu- 
siast over  mountain  scenery.  The  Photographer  is  likewise  a  genius, 
and  literally  a  compendium  of  scientific  knowledge  and  exploration. 
Connected  for  many  years  with  the  Geological  Surveys  of  this  region,  his 
practical  experience  renders  him  an  especially  valuable  coadjutor.  The 
Musician  is  young  in  years,  with  the  scroll  of  fame  before  him.  But  he 
comes  of  good  stock,  and  faith  is  strong.  And  there  is  still  another, 
our  Amos,  of  sable  hue,  who  has  our  fortunes,  to  a  large  extent,  in  his 
keeping,  for  does  he  not  preside  over  our  commissary?  We  shall  know 
him  better  by  and  by. 

Our  train  consisted  of  three  cars;  and  when  we  had  passed  the  great 
works  at  Burnham,  we  resolved  ourselves  into  an  investigating  commit- 
tee and  started  on  a  tour  of  inspection.  We  found  our  quarters  exceed- 
ingly well-arranged  and  comfortable,  although  in  some  confusion  from 


THE  PILGRIMS  EN  ROUTE.  27 

the  hasty  manner  in  which  our  loose  supplies  had  been  tumbled  in.  So 
the  committee  postponed  its  report. 

"  How  smoothly  we  bowl  along  !  "  remarked  the  Musician. 

"And  in  what  superb  condition  are  the  roadbed  and  track,"  added 
the  Photographer. 

Yet  so  gentle  and  noiseless  was  the  motion  that  it  required  the  testi- 
mony of  the  speed-indicator  to  convince  us  that  we  were  making  thirty- 
five  miles  per  hour.  We  had  passed  the  huge  Exposition  building  at  our 
left,  flitted  by  the  picturesque  village  of  Littleton,  with  its  neat  stone 
depot  and  white  flouring-mills,  and  were  approaching  Acequia  (which 
you  must  pronounce  A-say-ke-a)  along  a  shelving  embankment  overlook- 
ing the  Platte.  Away  to  the  west  and  across  the  valley,  we  could  dis- 
cern a  yellow  band,  which  the  Photographer  explained  was  the  new 
canal  under  construction  by  an  English  company,  and  which  was 
intended  to  convey  the  water  of  the  Platte,  from  a  point  far  up  its  canon, 
to  Denver.  The  canal  or  ditch  here  emerges  from  the  mountains  and 
bears  away  to  the  southward  for  some  distance,  until  it  uears  Plum 
Creek,  crossing  which,  by  means  of  an  aqueduct,  it  turns  sharply  to  the 
northward,  and  apparently  climbs  the  higher  table-lands  in  the  direction 
of  Denver.  As  observed  from  the  car  window  the  anomaly  seems  indis- 
putable, the  deception  of  course  being  attributable  to  the  ascending 
grade  of  the  railway.  This  is  one  of  several  cases  in  the  State  which 
will  be  pointed  out,  by  old-timers  to  new-comers,  as  veritable  instances 
where  water  runs  up  hill. 

The  valleys  of  Plum  Creek  and  its  branches  are  of  good  width,  and 
hollowed  out  of  the  modern  deposits  so  as  to  form  beautiful  and  fertile 
lands,  while  on  each  side  a  terrace  extends  down  from  the  mountains, 
like  a  lawn.  Following  up  the  main  valley  we  reach  Castle  Rock,  with 
its  immense  hay  ranches  and  fortress-butte,  and  beyond  is  Larkspur, 
named  after  one  of  the  most  striking  of  the  plains  birds.  Thence  the 
run  is  through  a  section  of  billowy  plains  or  depressed  foot-hills,  up  a 
steady  ninety-feet  grade  to  the  Divide,  in  whose  vicinity  we  encounter 
a  succession  of  high  buttes  and  mesas,  the  lower  portions  being  composed 
of  sandstone,  while  the  tops  are  of  igneous  rock  or  lava  These  con- 
stantly suggest  artificial  forms  of  towers,  castles  and  fortifications,  in 
some  places  rising  nearly  a  thousand  feet  above  the  railway.  Not  infre- 
quently the  cliffs  are  so  regularly  disposed  that  it  is  hard  to  believe  them 
merely  natural  formations.  The  entire  scenery  of  this  great  ridge,  and 
extending  far  out  into  the  plains,  is  of  an  unique  and  interesting  char- 
acter. Near  the  summit  there  are  remarkable  evidences  of  its  having 
been  the  coast-line  of  an  ancient  sea.  The  streams  which  rise  on  the 
northern  slope  of  this  watershed  find  their  way  into  the  Platte,  while 
those  on  the  southern  declivity  flow  into  the  Arkansas.  The  Divide  has 
a  good  covering  of  pines,  often  arranged  by  nature  with  park-like  sym- 
metry, and  forming  a  charming  contrast  with  the  bare  but  beautifully 


28 


THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 


colored  cliffs.     This  region  has  been  a  chief  source  of  Denver's  lumber 
supply,  and  the  timber  tract  is  estimated  to  contain  about  70,000  acres. 

On  the  Divide  is  a  beautiful  sheet  of  water,  known  as  Palmer  Lake 
from  which  is  derived  a  large  quantity  of  the  purest  ice.  Here  a 
novel  and  attractive  depot  has  been  erected  by  the  railway  company, 
and  extensive  improvements,  including  a  dancing  pavilion  and  sum- 
mer hotel,  cottages  and  boat-houses,  have  been  made.  In  the  hottest 
seasons  the  temperature  is  always  cool  and  invigorating,  and  no 
spot  within  accessible  distance  is  so  well  adapted  for  an  economical  and 
delightful  resort  for  Denverites.  On  the  southern  face  of  the  hill  the 
rock-formations  break  out  into  still  more  marked  resemblances  to  ruined 
castles,  showing  moats,  arches  and  turrets.  It  follows  that 

our  Artist   was    enraptured       ^P||k        with  the  romantic  features 
of    the    place,    and    the        ^HKUfck.        Photographer  insisted  on 


taking  out  his  camera 

One  of    his   results, 

contributed  to  the 

this   volume. 

from     the 

rapid,  and 

tention 

sorbed 

swiftly 

ing    p  a  n  o  - 

Close    by    are 

ains  —  their 

ramids  holding 

your  eyes   from 

plains.       "In 

mony  of  form,"     -  - 

them  :    "in  effect 


QUEEN'S  CANON 


and  getting  at  work. 
Phebe's     Arch,     is 
pictorial  fund  of 
The      descent 
Divide   is 
our    a  t  - 
is  ab- 
by  the 
chang- 
r  a  m  a  . 
the    mount- 
snowy  py- 
entranced 
far,  far  out  on  the 
variety   and     har- 
said  Bayard  Taylor  of 
against  the  dark  blue 
and  grandeur,  I  know 


sky,    in     breadth 

of  no  external  picture  of  the  Alps  which  can  be  placed  beside  it.  If  you 
could  take  away  the  valley  of  the  Rhone,  and  unite  the  Alps  of  Savoy 
with  the  Bernese  Oberland,  you  might  obtain  a  tolerable  idea  of  this 
view  of  the  Rocky  Mountains."  Pike's  Peak  is  constantly  in  sight,  and 
every  curve  in  the  steel  road  presents  it  in  a  different  aspect. 

Presently  we  find  ourselves  on  the  bank  of  Monument  Creek,  pass 
the  station  of  the  same  name,  and  soon  encounter  a  series  of  small 
basins,  and  side  valleys,  green-carpeted  and  with  gently  sloping  and 
wooded  sides. 

"  Observe  those  odd  rocks!  "  suddenly  exclaims  the  Madame.  "  No- 
tice how,  all  along  the  bluff,  stand  rows  of  little  images,  like  the  carved 
figure-friezes  of  the  Parthenon;  and  how  those  great  isolated  rocks  have 
been  left  like  the  discarded  and  broken  furniture  of  Gog  and  Magog." 


AMONG   THE  MONUMENTS.  29 

"Yes,"  I  say,  "but  the  tone  of  your  imagery  is  low.  Long,  long 
ago  a  higher  sentiment  called  them  'monuments,'  and  this  whole  illy- 
defined  region  of  grotesquely-cut  sandstones,  Monument  Park." 

And  then  we  all  fall  into  a  discussion  of  the  process  of  formation 
of  these  quaint  obelisks,  which  is  interrupted  by  the  Artist. 

"Here  is  some  pertinent  testimony  in  Ludlow's  admirable  book, 
the  '  Heart  of  the  Continent, '  which  by  your  leave  I  will  read  to  you. 
Ready?" 

"Fire  away!"  we  reply,  and  do  the  same  with  our  cigars,  making 
a  treaty  of  amity  in  the  blaze  of  a  mutual  match. 

'"  I  ascended  one  of  the  most  practicable  hills  among  the  number 
crowned  by  sculpturesque  formations.  The  hill  was  a  mere  mass  of  sand 
and  debris  from  decayed  rocks,  about  a  hundred  feet  high,  conical,  and 
bearing  on  its  summit  an  irregular  group  of  pillars.  After  a  protracted 
examination,  I  found  the  formation  to  consist  of  a  peculiar  friable  con- 
glomerate, which  has  no  precise  parallel  in  any  of  our  Eastern  strata. 
Some  of  the  pillars  were  nearly  cylindrical,  others  were  long  cones;  and  a 
number  were  spindle-shaped,  or  like  a  buoy  set  on  end.  With  hardly 
an  exception,  they  were  surmounted  by  capitals  of  remarkable  projec- 
tion beyond  their  base.  These  I  found  slightly  different  in  composition 
from  the  shafts.  The  conglomerate  of  the  latter  was  an  irregular  mixt- 
ure of  fragments  from  all  the  hypogene  rocks  of  the  range,  including 
quartzose  pebbles,  pure  crystals  of  silex,  various  crystalline  sandstones, 
gneiss,  solitary  horn-blende  and  feldspar,  nodular  iron  stones,  rude  agates 
and  gun-flint;  the  whole  loosely  cemented  in  a  matrix  composed  of  clay, 
lime  (most  likely  from  the  decomposition  of  gypsum),  and  red  oxide  of 
iron.  The  disk  which  formed  the  largely  projecting  capital  seemed  to 
represent  the  original  diameter  of  the  pillar,  and  apparently  retained  its 
proportions  in  virtue  of  a  much  closer  texture  and  larger  per  cent,  of 
iron  in  its  composition.  These  were  often  so  apparent  that  the  pillars 
had  a  contour  of  the  most  rugged  description,  and  a  tinge  of  pale  cream 
yellow,  while  the  capitals  were  of  a  brick-dust  color,  with  excess  of  red 
oxide,  and  nearly  as  uniform  in  their  granulation  as  fine  millstone-grit. 
The  shape  of  these  formations  seemed,  therefore,  to  turn  on  the  compar- 
ative resistance  to  atmospheric  influences  possessed  by  their  various 
parts.  Many  other  indications  .  .  .  .  led  me  to  narrow  down  all  the 
hypothetical  agencies  which  might  have  produced  them,  to  a  single  one, 
— air,  in  its  chemical  or  mechanical  operations,  and  usually  in  both.  .  .  . 
One  characteristic  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  is  its  system  of  vast  indenta- 
tions, cutting  through  from  the  top  to  the  bottom  of  the  range.  Some 
of  these  take  the  form  of  funnels,  others  are  deep,  tortuous  galleries 
known  as  passes  or  canons;  but  all  have  their  openings  toward  the 
plains.  The  descending  masses  of  air  fall  into  these  funnels  or  sinuous 
canals,  as  they  slide  down,  concentrating  themselves  and  acquiring  a 
vertical  motion.  When  they  issue  from  the  mouth  of  the  gorge  at  the 


30  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

base  of  the  range,  they  are  gigantic  augers,  with  a  revolution  faster  than 
man's  cunningest  machinery,  and  a  cutting-edge  of  silex,  obtained  from 
the  first  sand  heap  caught  up  by  their  fury.  Thus  armed  with  their 
own  resistless  motion  and  an  incisive-  thread  of  the  hardest  mineral 
next  to  the  diamond,  they  sweep  on  over  the  plains  to  excavate,  pull 
down,  or  carve  in  new  forms,  whatever  friable  formation  lies  in  their 
way.'" 

By  this  time  Colorado  Springs  was  at  hand,  and  as  we  had  decided, 
like  all  other  sensible  people  who  come  to  Colorado,  to  sojourn  awhile 
there  and  at  Manitou,  our  cars  were  side  tracked.  And  while  Amos  be- 
took himself  to  the  preparation  of  our  evening  meal,  we  admired  the 
gorgeous  sunset,  and  disposed  our  effects  for  the  first  night  out. 

Henry  Ward  Beecher  once  said  that  while  the  new  birth  was  neces- 
sary to  a  true  Christian  life,  it  was  very  important  that  one  be  born  well 
the  first  time.  Colorado  Springs  was  born  well.  It  was  organized  on 
the  colony  plan,  and  the  first  stake  was  driven  in  July,  1871.  Intelligent 
and  far-seeing  men  were  leaders  of  the  enterprise,  and  in  no  way 'was 
their  sagacity  more  apparent  than  in  the  insertion,  in  every  deed  of 
transfer,  of  a  clause  prohibiting,  upon  pain  of  forfeiture,  the  sale  or 
manufacture  of  alcoholic  beverages  on  the  premises  conveyed.  This  tem- 
perance clause  was  introduced  by  General  W.  J.  Palmer,  the  president 
of  the  colony,  who  during  his  services  as  engineer  of  railway  extensions, 
had  observed  the  destruction  which  the  unrestrained  traffic  in  intoxi- 
cants worked  .to  life  and  property.  It  was  not  sentiment,  but  a  sound 
business  precaution,  as  the  result  has  proved.  Of  course  this  provision 
has  been  contested,  but  it  has  been  legally  sustained,  and  has  given  the 
town  the  best  moral  tone  of  any  in  Colorado.  The  location  was  also 
wisely  chosen,  broad  and  regular  streets  were  carefully  laid  out,  a  sys- 
tem of  irrigation  established,  thousands  of  trees  planted,  and  reserva- 
tions for  parks  set  aside.  Some  of  the  avenues  running  north  and  south 
might  with  propriety  be  designated  boulevards,  being  140  feet  in  width, 
with  double  roadways  separated  by  parallel  rows  of  trees.  Other  trees 
shade  the  walks  at  either  side,  and  at  their  roots  flow  rapid  streamlets  of 
clearest  water.  The  drives  are  smooth  and  hard,  and  the  soil  never  be- 
comes muddy,  the  moisture  penetrating  rapidly  through  the  light  grav- 
elly loam.  The  gentle  inclination  southward  renders  drainage  a  very 
simple  matter. 

Seen  from  the  railway,  the  town  appears  to  be  located  upon  a  con 
siderable  elevation.  In  fact  it  stands  upon  a  plateau  in  the  midst  of  a 
valley.  The  thirty-five  miles  of  streets  and  avenues  are  closely  lined 
with  substantial  business  blocks,  pretentious  residences,  or  tasty  cottages. 
The  pink  and  white  stone  of  the  Manitou  quarries  is  largely  used;  and 
pent-roofs,  ornamental  gables,  red  chimneys,  and  the  whole  category  of 
renaissance  peculiarities,  have  representation  in  the  architecture.  The 


A  MODEL  COLONY. 


31 


dwellers  in  these  abodes  are  principally  of  the  cultured  and  refined 
classes.  Invalids  from  the  intellectual  centers  of  the  East  find  health 
and  congenial  society  here,  while  numbers  of  opulent  mine  owners  and 
stockmen  make  the  Springs  their  winter  home. 

The  public  buildings  are  all  creditable;  the  Deaf- Mute  Institute, 
Colorado  College,  the  churches  and  schools  being  specially  noteworthy. 

The  Opera  House 
is  a  veritable  bijou, 
handsome  and  con- 
venient in  all  its 
appointments,  and 
with  a  single  excep- 
tion not  surpassed 
west  of  the  Mis- 
souri. The  new 
hotel,  The  Antlers, 
erected  at  a  cost 
of  over  $125,000 
is  of  stone,  and  is 
without  doubt  the 
most  artistic  and 
elegant  structure  of 
its  kind  in  the  State. 
It  occupies  a  sight- 
ly position  at  the 
edge  of  the  plateau, 
and  from  its  balco- 
nies and  verandas  a 
marvelous  and  most 
inspiring  view  is 
presented.  The 
foothills  lie  along 
the  west,  about  five 
miles  distant,  the 
massive  outlines  of 
Cheyenne  Mount- 
ain a  little  to  the 
left,  and  the  huge 
red  towers  that 
mark  the  gateway 
to  the  Garden  of 
the  Gods  lifting 
their  crests  over  the 
Mesa  at  the  right, 
CHEYENNE  FALLS.  while  above  them 


32  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

all  is  reared  the  snow-crowned  summit  of  Pike's  Peak.  To  the  north, 
is  seen  in  the  foreground  the  gray  shoulders  of  the  buttes,  and  in  the 
distance  the  dark  pine-covered  elevation  of  the  Divide.  Easterly  the 
land  rises  gently  in  a  gray,  grass-clad  plain,  until  it  cuts  the  blue  horizon 
with  a  level  line;  while  southward  the  mountains  trend  away,  purple  in 
the  distance. 

Colorado  Springs  lies  under  the  shadow  of  Pike's  Peak;  and  in  the 
short  autumn  days  the  sun  drops  out  of  sight  behind  the  mountain  with 
startling  suddenness  at  four  o'clock.  Then  come  the  cool  shadows, 
when  fires  have  to  be  replenished,  and  doors  and  windows  closed. 
From  ten  o'clock  until  the  sun  hides  behind  the  hills,  the  blue  skies,  the 
soft  breezes  the  grateful  warmth,  suggest  that  month  in  which,  if  ever, 
come  perfect  days.  The  June  roses  are  absent  but  the  days  are  as  rare 
as  a  day  in  June.  The  average  temperature  here  is  sixty  degrees,  and 
there  are  about  three  hundred  days  of  sunshine  in  the  year. 

Within  a  radius  of  ten  miles  about  the  Springs  are  to  be  found 
more  "interesting,  varied  and  famous  scenic  attractions  than  in  any 
similar  compass  the  countiy  over,"  we  are  told  by  the  guide,  and  we  are 
quite  ready  to  believe  when  they  are  recounted.  A  drive  of  three  miles 
across  the  Mesa,  with  its  magnificent  mountain  view,  brings  you  to 
Glen  Eyrie,  the  secluded  home  of  General  Palmer,  originator  of  the 
Denver  and  Rio  Grande  railway.  "At  the  entrance  you  pass  a  little 
lodge  —  a  sonnet  in  architecture,  if  one  may  so  express  it  —  the  small 
but  perfect  rendering  of  a  harmonious  thought ;  you  cross  and  recross  a 
rushing,  tumbling  mountain  brook  over  a  dozen  different  bridges,  some 
rustic,  some  of  masonry,  but  each  a  gem  in  design  and  fitness;  then  at 
last,  after  the  mind  is  properly  tuned,  as  it  were,  to  perfect  accord,  the 
full  symphony  bursts  upon  you.  In  the  shadow  of  the  eternal  rock, 
with  the  wonderful  background  of  mountains,  surrounded  by  all  that 
art  can  lend  nature,  is  this  delicious  anachronism  of  a  Queen  Anne 
house,  in  sage-green  and  deep  dull  red,  with  arched  balconies  under 
pointed  gables,  and  carved  projections  over  mullioned  windows,  and 
trellised  porches,  with  stained  glass  loopholes  and  an  avalanche  of 
roofs."  A  little  distance  from  the  house  strange  forms  of  red  sanGstone 
lift  their  heads  far  above  the  foliage,  like  a  file  of  genii  marching  down 
on  solemn  mission  from  their  abodes  in  mountain  caves,  while  on  the 
ledges  of  the  gray  bluffs  opposite  the  eagles  have  built  their  nests. 
Farther  up  the  Glen,  and  yet  a  part  of  it,  is  Queen's  Canon,  a  mosi 
rugged  gorge,  in  which  the  wilduess  of  nature  has  been  for  the'  most 
part  unopposed.  The  same  turbulent  brook  comes  dashing  down,  in  a 
series  of  cascades  and  rapids,  from  the  Devil's  Punch-Bowl,  near  the 
head  of  the  Canon.  Rustic  bridges  cross  it  near  the  foot,  one  of  which 
is  made  the  subject  of  an  engraving  ;  but  soon  the  pathway  breaks  into 
a  mere  trail,  which  leads  over  boulders  and  fallen  tree-trunks,  or  clings 
to  precipitous  cliffs  which  tower  hiffh  overhead. 


LEAPING    WATERS.  33 

One  mile  north  of  Glen  Eyrie  is  Blair  Athol,  with  its  exquisitely 
tinted  pink  sandstone  pillars;  while  about  the  same  distance  to  the 
south  is  the  Garden  of  the  Gods,  which  it  seems,  however,  more 
proper  to  classify  with  Manitou's  environs.  Five  miles  northeasterly 
from  the  Springs  are  Austin's  Bluffs,  and  a  few  miles  west  of  these, 
Monument  Park.  Nearer  by,  and  due  west,  are  the  Red  and  Bear  Creek 
Caftons.  An  excellent  way  of  reaching  Pike's  Peak  is  by  the  Cheyenne 
Mountain  toll  road,  which  terminates  in  a  good  trail  passing  the  Seven 
Lakes.  The  Cheyenne  Canons,  at  the  northern  base  of  the  mountain 
of  the  same  name,  are  greatly  frequented,  and  justly  rank  high  in  the 
category.  They  are  two  in  number. 

South  Cheyenne  Canon  is  full  of  surprises.  "  The  vulgar  linear 
measure  of  its  length  is  out  of  harmony  with  the  winding  path  over 
rocks,  between  straight  pines,  and  across  the  rushing  waters  of  the 
brook  that  boils  down  the  whole  rocky  cut.  The  stream,  tossing  over 
its  rough  bed  and  dropping  into  sandy  pools,  drives  one  from  side  to 
side  of  the  narrow  passage-way  for  foothold.  Eleven  times  one  crosses 
it,  by  stepping  from  one  rolling  and  uncertain  stone  to  another,  by 
balancing  across  the  lurching  trunk  of  a  felled  tree,  or  by  dams  of 
driftwood;  and,  finally,  skirting  a  huge  boulder  that  juts  out  into 
the  water,  and  jumping  from  rock  to  rock,  the  head  of  the  Canon  is 
reached.  The  narrow  gorge  ends  in  a  round  well  of  granite,  down  one 
side  of  which  leaps,  slides,  foams  and  rushes  a  series  of  waterfalls. 
Seven  falls  in  line  drop  the  water  from  the  melted  snow  above  into  this 
cup.  Looking  from  below,  one  sees  (as  in  our  illustration)  only  three, 
that,  starting  down  the  last  almost  perpendicular  wall  and  striking 
ledges  in  the  rock,  and  oblique  crevices,  send  their  jet  shooting  in  a 
curved  spray  to  the  pool.  In  this  deep  hollow  only  the  noonday  sun 
ever  shines,  and  a  narrow  bank  of  snow  lies  against  one  side  in  the 
shadow  of  the  cliff.  Going  up  the  Canon,  with  the  roar  of  the  waters 
ahead  and  the  wild  path  before  one,  the  loftiness  and  savage  wildness  of 
the  walls  catch  only  a  dizzying  glance,  but  coming  out,  their  sides  seem 
to  touch  the  heavens  and  to  be  measureless.  The  eye  can  hardly  take 
in  the  vast  height,  and  with  the  afternoon  sun  touching  only  the 
extreme  tops,  one  realizes  in  what  a  crevice  and  fissure  of  the  rocks  the 
Canon  winds.  Across  the  widest  place  between  the  walls  a  girl  could 
throw  a  stone,  and  from  that  it  narrows  even  more.  The  cool,  dim 
light  down  at  the  base  contrasts  strangely  with  the  red  blaze  that 
reflects  from  the  top  of  the  high  walls;  and  emerging  from  one 
group  of  pine  trees,  a  turn  in  the  Canon  confronts  one  with  a  whole 
wall  of  sandstone  burning  in  the  intense  sunlight.  A  comparison 
between  this  and  the  Via  Mala  and  the  other  wild  gorges  of  the  Alps  is 
impossible,  but  had  legend  and  history  and  poetry  followed  it  for  cen- 
turies, South  Cheyenne  Canon  would  have  'its  great  features  acknowl- 
edged. Let  a  ruined  tower  stand  at  its  entrance,  whence  robber  knights 


34  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 


IN  NORTH  CHEYENNE  CANON. 

had  swooped  down  upon  travelers  and  picked  out  the  teeth  of  wealthy 
Hebrews;  let  a  nation  fight  for  its  liberty  through  its  chasm;  and  then 
let  my  Lord  Byron  turn  loose  the  flood  of  his  imagery  upon  it.  After 
all,  its  wildness  and  untouched  solitude  are  most  impressive;  and  with- 
out history,  save  of  the  seasons,  or  sound,  save  of  the  wind,  the  water 
and  the  eagles,  centuries  have  kept  it  for  the  small  world  that  knows 
it  now."  So  discourses  a  very  charming  lady  writer. 

North  Cheyenne  Canon  is  scarcely  less  interesting,  though  less 
widely  known.  Its  beauty  is  of  a  milder  type,  the  walls  advancing  and 
retreating,  and  anon  breaking  into  gaily-colored  pinnacles  on  which  the 


THE  COLORADO  NIGHTINGALE.  35 

sunlight  plays  in  strange  freaks  of  light  and  shade.  The  little  brook 
winds  like  a  silver  band  beside  the  path,  encircling  the  boulders  which 
it  cannot  leap,  and  all  the  while  singing  softly  to  the  rhythm  of  swaying 
vines.  The  birds  chirp  in  unison  as  they  skip  from  rock  to  rock,  and  in 
the  harmony  and  essence  of  the  scene  all  are  subdued— save  the  Artist, 
whose  deft  pencil  cannot  weary  in  so  much  loveliness.  When  words 
fail,  it  is  fortunate  he  is  at  hand  to  rescue  writer  and  reader  alike. 

It  was  during  our  stay  at  Colorado  Springs  we  made  acquaintance 
with  the  burro.  It  is  the  nightingale  of  Colorado;  its  range  of  voice  is 
limited,  consisting  indeed  of  only  two  notes;  but  the  amount  of  elo- 
quence, the  superb  quality,  the  deep  resonance  and  flexible  sinuosity 
which  can  be  thrown  by  this  natural  musician  into  such  a  small  compass 
are  tremendous.  As  they  lope  down  the  street,  the  larboard  ear  in  air, 
while  the  starboard  droops  limply,  the  long  tapir-like  nose  quivering 
with  the  mighty  volume  of  sound  which  is  pouring  through  it,  the  slop- 
ing Chinese  eyes  looking  at  you  sideways  with  the  lack-lustre  expression 
of  their  race,  and  an  artistic  kick  thrown  in  occasionally  to  produce  the 
tremolo  that  adds  the  last  touch  of  grace  to  the  ringing  voice,  you  are 
overwhelmed. 

We  betook  ourselves  to  the  train  one  evening,  after  our  by  no 
means  thorough  exploration  of  the  neighborhood,  and  began  our  prepa- 
rations for  a  few  days'  absence  at  Manitou.  It  was  only  five  miles  away, 
and  we  had  decided  not  to  take  our  cars  up.  Retiring  early,  we  fell 
asleep  to  dream  of  new  pleasures,  for  which  our  appetites  were  already 
whetted. 


Ill 

A  MOUNTAIN  SPA. 


.     .     .     And  the  ray 

Of  a  bright  sun  can  make  sufficient  holiday. 
Developing  the  mountains,  leaves,  and  flowers. 

And  shining  in  the  brawling  brook,  whereby, 
Clear  as  its  current,  glide  the  sauntering  hours 

With  a  calm  languor,  which,  though  to  the  eye 
Idlesse  it  seem,  hath  its  morality. 

— PETRARrrt. 


S  well  omit  the  Lions  of  St.  Mark  from  a  visit  to  Ven- 
ice, as  to  pass  by  Manitou  in  a  tour  of  Colorado. 
Manitou,  the  sacred  health-fountains  of  Indian  tradi- 
tion, the  shrine  of  disabled  mountaineers,  the  "Sara- 
toga "  of  the  Rockies. 

Leaving  Colorado  Springs,  a  branch  of  the  railway 
swings  gracefully  around  the  low  hills  in  which  the  Mesa  terminates, 
and  points  for  the  gap  in  the  mountains  directly  to  the  west.  Nearly 
three  miles  from  the  junction  we  pass  the  driving  park,  and  immedi- 
ately  after  run  up  to  Colorado  City,  the  first  capital  of  the  Territory, 
and  now  a  quiet  little  hamlet,  whose  chief  industry  is  the  production 
of  much  beer.  Recalling  the  temperance  proclivities  of  the  Springs, 
it  is  unfortunately  not  strange  that  a  drive  to  Colorado  City  in  the  long 
summer  evenings  should  prove  so  attractive  to  the  ardent  youth  of 
untamed  blood.  Then  the  road  passes  into  the  clusters  of  cottonwoods 
and  willows  which  fringe  the  brook,  crossing,  recrossing,  and  dash- 
ing through  patches  of  sunlight,  whence  the  huge  colored  pinnacles  in 
the  Garden  of  the  Gods  are  descried  over  the  broken  hills  at  the  right. 
It  is  a  striking  ride,  and  curiously  the  location  of  the  railway  has  not 
been  allowed  to  mar  its  native  beauty.  Describing  the  contour  of  a  pro- 
jecting foothill,  we  obtain  our  first  glimpse  of  Manitou,  with  its  great 
hotels,  its  cut-stone  cottages,  and  its  picturesque  station.  Just  across 
the  way,  and  in  the  lowest  depression  of  the  narrow  vale,  is  a  charm- 
ing villa,  embowered  in  shrubbery,  with  quaint  gables  and  porches,  and 
phenomenal  lawns  and  flower-beds.  It  is  the  home  of  Dr.  W.  A.  Bell, 
for  years  vice-president  of  the  Denver  and  Rio  Grande  railway. 

The  village  itself  is  grouped  in  careless  ease  along  the  steep  and 
bushy  slopes  of  the  valley,  straggling  about  and  abounding  in  miniature 
chalets,  precisely  as  a  mountain  village  ought  to  do.  The  Fontaine-qui- 

36 


HEALTH  AND  PLEASURE.  37 

• 

Bouille,  full  of  the  sprightliness  of  its  youth  in  Ute  Pass,  and  its  escapade 
at  Rainbow  Falls,  comes  dashing  and  splashing,  and  singing  its  happy 
song: 

"  I  chatter  over  stony  ways, 

In  little  sharps  and  trebles; 
I  bubble  into  eddying  bays, 
I  babble  on  the  pebbles." 

Down  close  to  this  frolicsome,  icy-cold  stream,  are  built  the  larger 
hotels,  the  Beebee  and  Manitou,  surrounded  by  groves  of  cottonwood, 
aspen,  wild  cherry  and  box  elder.  They  are  cheery,  clean,  homelike, 


A   GLIMPSE    OF   MANITOU   AND    PIKE'S   PEAK. 


38  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

and  handsomely  furnished.  The  broad  piazzas  afford  the  finest  views 
of  Pike's  Peak,  Cameron's  Cone,  and  their  confreres.  Here  gather  the 
"  beauty  and  chivalry  "  of  many  climes,  and  in  the  long,  soft  evenings, 
devoid  of  dew  or  moisture,  the  cozy  nooks  offer  the  seclusion  for  —  we 
had  nearly  said,  flirtation  —  or  cool  refuge  from  the  heated  dancing- 
hall.  Rustic  bridges  cross  the  brook,  leading  into  a  labyrinth  of  shade 
and  on  up  to  the  crags  behind.  At  the  rear  of  the  hotels,  Lover's  Lane, 
a  most  romantic  ramble,  starts  out  in  a  half-mile  maze  through  arbors, 
and  flowering  shrubs,  and  over  little  precipices,  for  the  springs.  Beside 
the  path,  and  in  out-of-the-way  spots  among  the  bushes,  are  alluring 
seats,  only  large  enough  for  two,  where  you  may  sit,  while  at  your  feet 
the  selfsame  brooklet  murmurs: 

"  I  steal  by  lawns  and  grassy  plots; 

I  slide  by  hazel  covers ; 
I  move  the  sweet  forget-me-nots 
That  grow  for  happy  lovers." 

Further  up  stream,  a  little  way,  are  the  homes  of  the  citizens,  and 
more  hotels  and  boarding  places  —  the  Cliff  House,  Barker's,  and  a 
dozen  others.  Here,  too,  on  the  banks  of  the  creek,  boiling  up  in  basins 
of  their  own  secretion,  and  hidden  under  rustic  kiosks  of  a  later  date, 
are  the  springs  themselves.  They  are  six  in  number,  varying  in  temper- 
ature from  43°  to  56°  F.,  and  are  strongly  charged  with  carbonic  acid. 
"  Coming  up  the  valley,"  writes  an  authority,  "  the  first  is  the  Shoshone, 
bubbling  up  under  a  wooden  canopy,  close  beside  the  main  road  of 
the  village,  and  often  called  the  Sulphur  Spring,  from  the  yellow  deposit 
left  around  it.  A  few  yards  further  on,  and  in  a  ledge  of  rock  over- 
hanging the  right  bank  of  the  Fontaine,  is  the  Navajo  (shown  in  the 
foreground  of  our  picture),  containing  carbonates  of  soda,  lime  and 
magnesia,  and  still  more  strongly  charged  with  carbonic  acid,  having  a 
refreshing  taste  similar  to  seltzer  water.  From  this  rocky  basin,  pipes 
conduct  the  water  to  the  bath-house,  which  is  situated  on  the  stream  a 
little  below.  Crossing  by  a  pretty  rustic  bridge,  we  come  to  the 
Manitou,  close  to  an  ornamental  summer-house;  its  taste  and  properties 
nearly  resemble  the  Navajo.  Recrossing  the  stream  and  walking  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  up  the  Ute  Pass  road,  following  the  right  bank  of  the 
Fontaine,  we  find,  close  to  its  brink,  the  Ute  Soda.  This  resembles  the 
Manitou  and  Navajo,  but  is  chemically  less  powerful,  though  much 
enjoyed  for  a  refreshing  draught.  Retracing  one's  steps  to  within  two 
hundred  yards  of  the  Manitou  Spring,  we  cross  a  bridge  leading  over  a 
stream  which  joins  the  Fontaine  at  almost  a  right  angle  from  the  south- 
west; following  up  the  right  bank  of  this  mountain  brook,  which  is 
called  Ruxton's  Creek,  we  enter  the  most  beautiful  of  the  tributary  val- 
leys of  Manitou.  Traversing  the  winding  road  among  rocks  and  trees 
for  nearly  half  a  mile,  we  reach  a  pavilion  close  to  the  right  bank 


THERAPEUTIC   QUALITIES  OF  THE  WATERS.          39 

of  the  creek,  in  which  we  find  the  Iron  Ute,  the  water  being  highly 
effervescent,  of  the  temperature  of  44°  3  F.,  and  very  agreeable  in  spite 
of  its  marked  chalybeate  taste.  Continuing  up  the  left  bank  of  the 
stream  for  a  few  hundred  yards,  we  reach  the  last  of  the  springs  that 
have  been  analyzed  —  the  Little  Chief;  this  is  less  agreeable  in  taste, 
being  less  effervescent  and  more  strongly  impregnated  with  sulphate  of 
soda  than  any  of  the  other  springs,  and  containing  nearly  as  much  iron 
as  the  Iron  Ute. 

"  These  springs  have  from  time  immemorial  enjoyed  a  reputation  as 
healing  waters  among  the  Indians,  who,  when  driven  from  the  glen  by 
the  inroads  of  civilization,  left  behind  them  wigwams  to  which  they 
used  to  bring  their  sick ;  believing,  as  they  did,  that  the  Good  Spirit 
breathed  into  the  waters  the  breath  of  life,  they  bathed  and  drank  of 
them,  thinking  thereby  to  find  a  cure  for  every  ill ;  yet  it  has  been  found 
that  they  thought  most  highly  of  their  virtues  when  their  bones  and 
joints  were  racked  with  pain,  their  skins  covered  with  unsightly  blotches, 
or  their  warriors  weakened  by  wounds  or  mountain  sickness.  During 
\he  seasons  that  the  use  of  these  waters  has  been  under  observation,  it 
nas  been  noticed  that  rheumatism,  certain  skin  diseases,  and  cases  of 
debility  have  been  much  benefited,  so  far  confirming  the  experience  of 
the  past.  The  Manitou  and  Navajo  have  also  been  highly  praised  for 
their  relief  of  old  kidney  and  liver  troubles,  and  the  Iron  Ute  for 
chronic  alcoholism  and  uterine  derangements.  Many  of  the  phthisical 
patients  who  come  to  this  dry,  bracing  air  in  increasing  numbers  are 
also  said  to  have  drunk  of  the  waters  with  evident  advantage. 

"  Professor  Loew  (chemist  to  the  Wheeler  expedition),  speaking  of 
the  Manitou  Springs  as  a  group,  says,  very  justly,  they  resemble  those 
of  Ems,  and  excel  those  of  Spa  —  two  of  the  most  celebrated  in  Europe. 

"  On  looking  at  the  analyses  of  the  Manitou  group  it  will  be  seen 
that  they  all  contain  carbonic  acid  and  carbonate  of  soda,  yet  they  vary 
in  some  of  their  other  constituents.  We  will,  therefore,  divide  them 
into  three  groups  of  carbonated  soda  waters:  1.  The  carbonated  soda 
waters  proper,  comprising  the  Navajo,  Manitou  and  Ute  Soda,  in  which 
the  soda  and  carbonic  acid  have  the  chief  action.  2.  The  purging  car- 
bonated soda  waters,  comprising  the  Little  Chief  and  Shoshone,  where 
the  action  of  the  soda  and  carbonic  acid  is  markedly  modified  by  the 
sulphates  of  soda  and  potash.  3.  The  ferruginous  carbonated  soda 
waters  where  the  action  of  the  carbonic  acid  and  soda  is  modified  by 
the  carbonate  of  iron,  comprising  the  Iron  Ute  and  the  Little  Chief, 
which  latter  belongs  to  this  group  as  well  as  to  the  preceding  one." 

Such  are  the  medicinal  fountains  that  not  only  have  proved  them- 
selves blessings  to  thousands  of  invalids,  sick  of  pharmacy,  but  cause 
the  summer  days  here  to  be  haunted  by  pleasure-seekers,  who  make  the 
health  of  some  afflicted  friend,  or  weariness  from  overwork  in  them- 
selves, excuse  for  coming ;  or  boldly  assert  themselves  here  purely  for 


40 


THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 


pleasure.  Time  was  when  this  entrance  to  a  score  of  glens  was  a  rendez- 
vous for  game  and  primitively  wild.  Even  a  dozen  years  ago  it,  would 
answer  to  this  description,  and  now  one  need  not  go  far  in  winter  to  find 
successful  shooting.  "In  summer  time,"  to  quote  the  Earl  of  Dun- 
raven,  "beautiful  but  dangerous  creatures  roam  the  park.  The  tracks 
of  tiny  little  shoes  are  more  frequent  than  the  less  interesting,  but  harm- 


THE    MINERAL   SPRINGS. 

less,  footprints  of  mountain  sheep.  You  are  more  likely  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  the  hem  of  a  white  petticoat  in  the  distance  than  of  the 
glancing  form  of  a  deer.  The  marks  of  carriage  wheels  are  more  plen- 
tiful than  elk  signs,  and  you  are  not  now  so  liable  to  be  scared  by  the 
human-like  track  of  a  gigantic  bear  as  by  the  appalling  impress  of  a 
number  eleven  boot." 

Do  not  imagine,  however,  that  all  the  boot-tracks  mark  "the  appal- 
ling impress  of  a  number  eleven."  The  Madame  tells  me  they  dress  as 
well  at  Manitou  as  at  Saratoga;  to  me  this  seems  a  doubtful  kind  of 
compliment,  but  she  intended  it  to  cover  the  perfection  of  summer 
toilets.  At  Manitou,  indeed,  you  do  all  you  think  it  proper  to  do  in  the 
Green  Mountains,  or  at  White  Sulphur,  or  any  other  upland  resort,  but 
in  far  more  delightfully  unconventional  ways,  and  the  enjoyment  is  pro- 
portionately increased. 

No  Eastern  watering-place  affords  opportunity  for  so  many  desira- 
ble excursions,  each  distinct  from  the  other  in  interest,  each  superb  and 
of  itself  a  sufficient  inducement  to  come  to  Colorado.  Just  overhead 
towers  the  glorious  old  crest  of  Pike's  Peak,  the  beacon  of  '59,  and  ever 
since  the  type  of  American  mountains.  He  who  does  not  ascend  the 
Peak  (if  he  is  in  fair  health)  can  never  get  a  good  character  from 


ASCENDING  PIKE'S  PEAK.  41 

Manitou.  Of  course  all  of  the  present  party  went.  Moreover  we  went 
fancy-free  and  note-book  forgotten — a  happiness  as  great  as  Patti's  when 
she  saw  there  was  no  piano  on  the  ocean  steamer  in  which  she  was  to 
take  passage.  "How  was  this?"  do  you  ask?  Lillian  Scidmore  had 
been  there  before  us,  and  reaped  with  her  keen  sickle  %every  spear  of 
wheat  in  the  whole  field.  To  show  our  gleanings  would  amount  to 
nothing;  so  here  is  her  whole  sheaf: 

"  The  tenth  of  June  having  left  the  world  upon  its  axis,  a  little 
band  of  heroic  spirits  made  ready  to  mount  the  bony  bronchos,  and  toi) 
upward  from  the  green  and  lovely  vale  of  Manitou  to  the  rocky  height 
above.  The  noonday  sun  was  sending  down  its  most  scorching  rays; 
and  the  idlers  on  the  hotel  piazza  w"ere  mopping  their  brows  and  repeat 
mg  the  wearisome  formula  of  '  the  hottest  day  ever  known  in  Colorado/ 
The  sun  was  ardent,  to  say  the  least,  but  the  crisp  breeze  that  came 
nistling  down  from  the  higher  canons  tempered  its  effects. 

"The  sympathetic  chambermaid  of  the  Beebee  House  had  beeu 
hovering  in  my  doorway  for  a  half  hour  before  the  start,  urging  me  to 
take  more  and  more  wraps,  and  relating  horrible  anecdotes  of  the 
Chicago  lady  '  who  had  her  nose  burned  to  a  white  blister  and  her  face 
so  raw,  ma'am,  that  we  could  hardly  touch  it  with  a  feather  for  three 
days.'  With  such  gentle  admonition  there  was  no  struggle  when  the 
kind-hearted  one  proceeded  to  apply  her  preventive,  and  under  a  triple 
layer  of  cold  cream,  powder  and  barege  veils  we  made  the  trip,  and 
returned  rather  fairer  in  skin  for  the  bleaching  process.  The  perspira- 
tion ran  off  the  guide's  forehead  before  he  had  strapped  on  the  first 
bundle  of  overcoats,  ulsters,  shawls,  rugs  and  furs,  but  the  grateful 
sensation  they  imparted  to  us  a  few  hours  later  will  cheer  me  through 
many  midsummer  days.  The  party  included,  among  others,  a  gentle 
man  and  his  wife  from  St.  Louis,  and  the  same  wicked  Colorado  editoi 
who  is  the  author  of  all  the  fine  spun  yarns  about  the  Pike's  Peak 
volcano  and  the  mountain  lions. 

"  Such  horses  as  we  rode  can  be  raised  and  trained  only  on  a  moun- 
tain trail,  and  if  they  could  but  speak,  what  tales  of  timidity,  stupidity 
and  absurdity  they  might  relate.  My  own  Arabian  was  a  tai-colored 
beast,  shading  off  to  drab  and  old  gold,  known  in  the  vernaci^ar  of  the 
country  as  a  buckskin  horse  and  rejoiced  in  the  sweet  name  of  '  Bird.' 
It  was  a  veritable  misnomer,  for  birds  do  not  generally  sit  down  and 
roll  at  every  piece  of  green  grass  or  cool  water  that  they  c*  >me  to,  nor 
try  to  shake  their  riders  off  over  their  necks.  My  sudden,  flights  to 
earth  were  heralded  in  all  the  turgid  and  flamboyant  rhetoric  of  the 
circus  ring,  and  equestrian  feats,  each  outrivaling  the  other  ir*  novelty 
and  unexpectedness,  diversified  the  route.  It  was  proposed  to  call  the 
creature  Jordan,  because  she  rolled ;  and  again  it  was  suggest^!  that  as 
it  was  '  sinched '  out  of  all  shape  it  had  mistaken  itself  for  an  hour- 
glass, and  concluded  that  it  was  time  to  turn.  Another  horst.  fcr  ^  lady 


42  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

rider  answered  to  'Annie,'  and  this  gentle  beast  was  only  kept  from 
lying  down  in  every  stream  by  energetic  pullings  and  vigorous  thrash- 
ings. The  good  son  of  St.  Louis,  bidden,  like  Louis  XVI  at  the  guillo- 
tine, to  '  mount  to  heaven,'  when  he  leaped  upon  his  dappled  gray, 
in  a  linen  coat,  broad-brimmed  hat  and  full-spread  umbrella,  had  a  truly 
ministerial  air  as  he  preceded  the  line  up  the  road.  The  editor  rode  a 
pensive  nag  that  hung  its  head  and  coughed  timidly  now  and  then,  but 
chirruped  to  as  '  Camille '  would  push  forward  and  crowd  the  other 
horses  off  the  trail,  until  a  kicking  and  lashing  from  the  heels  of  'Bird' 
brought  things  in  order. 

' '  The  Pike's  Peak  trail  is  one  series  of  picturesque  surprises.  All 
that  green  canons,  tremendous  boulders  and  turbulent  little  streams  can 
do  for  beauty  are  there,  and  from  the  rustic  spot  where  a  small  bandit 
on  the  rock  demanded  toll,  there  was  a  succession  of  grand  and  lovely 
scenes.  The  trail,  worn  deep  into  the  grassy  places  by  the  procession  of 
horses  that  goes  up  and  down  it  from  May  to  October,  winds  on  between 
great  rocks,  along  the  steep  and  dizzy  sides  of  canons,  past  cascades 
and  waterfalls  (one  of  which  is  the  subject  of  a  sketch),  and  continually 
upward,  opening  boundless  views  out  upon  the  broad  plains  that  stretch 
like  a  yellow  sea  from  the  foothills  of  the  Peak  eastward.  With  every 
rise  there  came  a  greater  one  beyond,  and  above  it  all,  seeming  to  move 
and  rise  further  and  higher  from  us,  was  the  rose-red  summit,  with 
streaks  and  patches  of  snow  bringing  out  its  beautiful  colors.  Over 
giant  boulders,  creeping  a  cramped  path  beside  and  under  them,  or 
along  a  narrow  ledge  of  sliding  sand  with  colossal  rocks  miraculously 
suspended  above  our  pathway,  the  panting  horses  toiled  along. 
Ascending  into  higher  and  rarer  air  it  was  necessary  every  few  minutes 
to  stop  and  give  the  poor  creatures  a  chance  to  breathe. 

"As  we  rose  higher  on  the  mountain  side  more  extended  views 
were  opened  backward  over  the  plains.  The  lowering  sun  fell 
fiercely  on  the  red  sandstone  gateways  of  the  Garden  of  the  Gods,  until 
they  burned  in  flame-colored  light  against  the  yellow-gray  grass.  The 
hotels  and  cottages  of  Manitou  were  tiny  dots  in  a  green  hollow  far 
below,  and  the  courses  of  the  winding  streams  could  be  traced  for  miles 
over  the  plains  by  their  green  borders  of  cotton  wood  and  willow  trees. 
Wild  flowers  grew  luxuriantly  all  the  way,  and  in  a  little  park  half  way 
to  the  summit,  where  the  guides  rest  by  a  spring  and  wait  for  ascending 
and  descending  parties  to  pass,  the  ground  was  thick  with  big  colum- 
bines, wild  roses,  harebells,  white  daisies,  pale  lavender  geraniums  with 
their  petals  streaked  with  maroon,  and  the  beautiful  blue-eyed  pen- 
sternon  of  early  June.  At  timber-line  the  wild  box  covered  the  sandy 
slopes  with  a  thick  and  tangled  mat  of  green,'  and  higher  than  the  hardi- 
est pines  stretched  a  rolling  mountain  meadow,  a  mile  of  emerald  turf 
jeweled  with  the  brilliant  blossoms  of  bluebells,  buttercups,  dwarf 
sunflowers  and  dainty  little  Quaker-lady  forget-me-nots. 


SCENES  AT  THE  SUMMIT.  43 

' '  Sixteen  people  passed  us  in  the  half-way  park  on  their  way  down. 
The  terrified  countenance  of  one  lady  on  a  mule  would  have  made  the 
hard-hearted  to  laugh.  She  pitched  back  and  forth  in  her  saddle,  and 
shot  a  pitiful  gaze  at  us  as  she  went  by  that  plainly  indicated  her  esti- 
mate of  us  and  mountain  climbers  in  general.  The  twelve  miles  of 
steep,  hard  riding  to  the  summit  is  trying  to  the  most  practiced  rider; 
and  for  women,  who  have  never  sat  a  horse  before,  to  attempt  to  make 
the  trip  up  and  down  in  one  day  is  a  folly  that  fully  deserves  the  punish 
ment  it  gets.  Twenty-four  miles  of  horseback  riding  on  a  level  road  even 
is  apt  to  be  remembered  by  the  inexperienced.  Added  to  the  fatigue  is 
the  sea-sickness  consequent  upon  the  great  altitude,  and  few  who  make 
the  ascent  escape  that  ill.  It  is  a  certificate  of  a  rock-bound  constitution 
to  spend  a  night  on  the  summit  and  not  be  grievously  ill.  After  the 
mountain  meadow  come  three  miles  of  broken  and  ragged  rock,  the 
most  wearisome  and  discouraging  part  of  the  road.  The  horses'  sides 
throbbed  frightfully,  the  keen  winds  made  a  halt  for  overcoats  neces- 
sary, and  the  scramble  over  these  steep  rocks  is  a  fearful  thing  in  a  nip- 
ping sunset  breeze.  The  rocks  of  the  summit,  that  seem  only  reddish 
brown  from  below,  are  of  the  softest  pink  and  rose-red  shades,  dotted 
with  black  and  golden  moss-patches  until  they  strongly  remind  one  of 
the  exquisite  colors  of  speckled  trout.  Above  this  sea  of  loose  and 
broken  granite  a  low,  square  house  of  stone  at  last  arose,  and  over  the 
ultimate  rock  we  finally  stood  on  the  highest  inhabited  point  on  the 
continent. 

"The  officer  of  the  signal  service,  who  lives  in  that  lofty  house, 
stood  in  his  doorway  shooting  at  a  tin  can  on  a  pole,  and  in  that  thin 
open  air  the  pop  of  the  pistol  was  a  short,  faint  little  noise  without 
crash  or  echo.  The  red  ball  of  the  sun  sinking  down  behind  the  snowy 
edges  of  the  mountains  beyond  Leadville  sent  strange  lights  and  mists 
across  the  tossed  and  uneven  stretch  of  mountains  and  parks  that  lay 
between  it  and  the  gaunt  old  Peak.  The  seventy  acres  of  wildly  scat- 
tered rock-fragments  that  crown  the  top  afford  a  vantage  ground  for 
views  to  every  point  of  the  compass.  Eastward  across  the  vast  prairie 
land  there  seems  no  limit  to  the  vision,  and  beyond  the  green  lines  of 
the  Platte  and  Arkansas  rivers  we  amused  ourselves  by  imagining  the 
steeples  of  St.  Louis  in  the  rose  and  purple  vapors  of  the  horizon.  The 
clouds,  mists,  shadows  and  faint  opalescent  lights  on  the  plains,  shifting, 
changing  and  fading  each  moment,  are  more  fascinatingly  beautiful 
than  the  dark,  upheaved  and  splintered  ridges  of  the  mountains. 
Stretching  out  over  the  plains,  at  first  in  a  blue  cone  upon  the  grass,  and 
then  sweeping  outward  and  upward  to  the  sky-line,  the  vast  shadow  of 
the  mountain  was  thrown  sharply  against  the  sky. 

"  Wrapped  in  furs  and  bundled  in  all  the  woolen  warmth  of  heavi- 
est winter  clothes,  the  chill  oil-  of  evening  penetrated  like  a  knife-edge, 
and  we  sat  shivetiBg  oa  tbe  rocks  Witfc  pitteKe,  pinched  and  purple 


44  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

faces  and  chattering  teeth.  The  afterglow  in  the  east,  when  the  sky  and 
the  plains  melted  in  bne  purple  line  and  a  band  of  rose-color  went  up 
higher  and  higher,  was  more  lovely  even  than  the  pure  crimson  and 
gold  and  blue  of  the  sunset  clouds. 

"  Around  the  crackling  fire  in  the  station  we  thawed  our  benumbed 
fingers  and  watched  the  observations  taken  from  the  various  instruments 
and  sent  clicking  off  on  the  telegraph  wires  to  Washington  headquarters. 
The  sergeant  wound  the  alarm-clock  to  rouse  us  at  four  o'clock  the  next 
morning,  and,  giving  up  the  one  sleeping-room  to  the  ladies,  retired  with 
the  gentlemen  of  the  party  to  a  bed  of  buffalo-robes  in  the  kitchen. 
The  awful  stillness,  the  stealthy  puffs  of  wind,  and  the  sense  of  isola- 
tion and  remoteness,  were  distressing  at  first;  but  the  tobacco-laden  air 
dulled  us  to  sleep.  As  the  fire  died  out,  dreams  of  Greenland — glaciers 
and  giddy  snow-banks  on  impossible  summits — seized  and  held  us,  until 
a  shivering  voice  gave  the  alarm :  '  It  is  all  red  in  the  east.' 

"  We  had  climbed  all  those  miles  purposely  to  see  the  spectacle  of 
dawn,  but  there  was  unhappiness  among  the  pinched  and  pallid  enthu- 
siasts who  crept  out  on  the  rocks  and  watched  the  half-light  on  the 
plains  deepen.  A  pale  and  withered  moon  hung  overhead,  and  miles 
away  on  the  plain  lay  a  vast  white  cloud  like  a  lake,  until  the  rising 
sun  touched  it  and  sent  it  rolling  and  tossing  like  angry  waves.  A  crim- 
son ball  sprang  suddenly  from  the  outermost  rim  of  the  earth,  glared 
with  a  red  and  sleepy  eye  upon  the  world,  and  pulled  the  cover  of  a 
cloud  above  it  for  a  second  nap  before  it  came  forth  in  full  splendor. 
The  shadow  of  the  Peak  projected  westward  fell  this  time  on  the  uneven 
mountains,  whose  sides  and  clefts  were  filled  and  floating  with  faint 
pearl,  lilac  and  roseate  mists.  The  black  patch  where  Denver  lay  on  the 
plains,  the  snowy  top  of  Gray's  Peak,  the  green  basin  of  South  Park, 
and  seemingly  everything  from  end  to  end  of  the  State,  could  be  seen. 
Shivering,  freezing,  on  that  mountain  top,  with  a  fur  cloak  about  me, 
besides  all  the  other  wraps,  it  seemed  that  there  never  was  a  winter  day 
half  as  cold. 

"  In  all  the  crevices  of  the  rocks,  wherever  there  was  enough  pow- 
dered granite  to  form  a  soil  for  their  roots,  were  tiny  little  white  blos- 
soms, fairy  stars  or  flowers,  with  just  their  heads  above  the  ground,  and 
an  exquisite  perfume  breathing  from  them.  Bidding  the  guide  to  sinch 
up  quickly  for  the  down  trip,  we  partook  of  the  signal  sergeant's  coffee, 
and  listened  to  his  anecdotes  of  his  lonesome  life  of  two  weeks  on  the 
mountain  and  two  weeks  in  town. 

"  '  You  are  the  best  crowd  that's  been  up,'  said  the  brave  man  of 
barometers.  '  They  all  get  sick  when  they  stay  over  night.  It  took  ME 
a  month  to  get  used  to  it.  You  ought  to  stay  until  noon  and  see  the 
tender-feet  come  up  and  get  sick.  Oh,  Lord !  there  was  an  old  lady  up 
here  the  other  day,  and  she  says  to  me:  "Sergeant,  don't  people  ever 
die  of  this  sickness  up  here?  "  "  Oh,  yes,  ma'am,"  says  I,  "  a  lady  died 


PIKE'S  PEAK  TRAIL. 

the  other  day,  and  as  there  wasn't  any  one  to  identify  her  we  just  put 
her  over  in  that  snow-bank  there.'" 

"  With  a  lot  more  of  such  mountain  horrors  he  kept  his  rafters 
ringing,  and  then  bade  us  climb  the  ladder  to  the  top  of  his  house, 
which  would  make  up  the  difference  of  fifteen  feet  between  his  abode 
and  Gray's  Peak.  We  looked  at  the  grave  of  the  imaginary  child  de- 
stroyed by  mountain  rats,  gave  a  last  glance  at  the  enchanted  view,  and 
left  the  chilling  region." 

Another  entertaining  jaunt  is  a  couple  of  miles  or  less  up  the  Ute 
Pass  wagon-road  to  Rainbow  Falls,  one  of  the  finest  cascades  in  the 


46  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

West — where  such  things  are  more  of  a  curiosity  than  in  wetter  regions 
of  the  world.  The  water  comes  down  here  with  a  more  than  ordinarily 
desperate  plunge,  and  it  is  great  sport  to  climb  about  the  angular  rocks 
that  hem  it  in. 

Ute  Pass  leads  over  into  South  Park,  and  before  the  days  of  railways 
it  was  greatly  traveled  by  passengers  and  by  freight  wagons  to  Leadville 
and  Fairplay.  There  is  less  transit  there  now,  but  in  summer  pleasure- 
parties  constantly  traverse  the  Pass,  partly  for  its  own  sake  and  partly 
to  enjoy  a  sight  of  Manitou  Park  on  the  opposite  side,  whence  a  mag- 
nificent array  of  the  snowy  interior  ranges  is  to  be  seen,  northward  and 
westward,  while  Pike's  Peak  presents  itself  to  superior  advantage  from 
that  point  of  view.  In  the  park  is  a  good  little  hotel  and  dairy,  and  a 
trout  stream  and  pond  where  the  Eastern  brook-trout  has  been  assid- 
uously cultivated.  In  the  fall  Manitou  Park  is  the  resort  of  deer  hunters 
and  grouse  shooters. 

Then  there  is  the  already  mentioned  Garden  of  the  Gods,  hidden 
behind  those  garish  walls  of  red  and  yellow  sandstone,  so  stark  and 
out  of  place  in  the  soberly-toned  landscape  that  they  travesty  nature, 
converting  the  whole  picture  into  a  theatrical  scene,  and  a  highly  spec- 
tacular one  at  that.  Passing  behind  these  sensational  walls,  one  is  not 
surprised  to  find  a  sort  of  gigantic  peep-show  in  pantomime.  The  solid 
rocks  have  gone  masquerading  in  every  sort  of  absurd  costume  and  char- 
acter. The  colors  of  the  make-up,  too,  are  varied  from  black  through 
all  the  browns  and  drabs  to  pure  white,  and  then  again  through  yellows 
and  buffs  and  pinks  up  to  staring  red.  Who  can  portray  adequately 
these  odd  forms  of  chiseled  stone?  I  have  read  a  dozen  descriptions, 
and  so  have  you,  no  doubt.  But  one  I  have  just  seen,  in  a  letter  by  a 
Boston  lady,  is  so  pertinent  you  should  have  the  pleasure  of  reading  it : 

"  The  impression  is  of  something  mighty,  unreal  and  supernatural. 
Of  the  gods  surely — but  the  gods  of  the  Norse  Walhalla  in  some  of  their 
strange  outbursts  of  wild  rage  or  uncouth  playfulness.  The  beauty- 
loving  divinities  of  Greece  and  Rome  could  have  nothing  in  common 
with  such  sublime  awkwardness.  Jove's  ambrosial  curls  must  shake  in 
another  Olympia  than  this.  Weird  and  grotesque,  but  solemn  and  aw- 
ful at  the  same  time,  as  if  one  stood  on  the  confines  of  another  world, 
and  soon  the  veil  would  be  rent  which  divided  them.  Words  are  worse 
than  useless  to  attempt  such  a  picture.  Perhaps  if  one  could  live  in  the 
shadow  of  its  savage  grandeur  for  months  until  his  soul  were  permeated, 
language  would  begin  to  find  itself  flowing  in  proper  channels,  but  in 
the  first  stupor  of  astonishment  one  must  only  hold  his  breath.  The 
Garden  itself,  the  holy  of  holies,  as  most  fancy,  is  not  so  overpowering 
to  me  as  the  vast  outlying  wildness. 

"  To  pass  in  between  massive  portals  of  rock  of  brilliant  terra-cotta 
red,  and  enter  on  a  plain  miles  in  extent,  covered  in  all  directions  with 
magnificent  isolated  masses  of  the  same  striking  color,  each  lifting  itself 


/JV  THE  GARDEN   OH   THE  GODS.  47 

against  the  wonderful  blue  of  a  Colorado  sky  with  a  sharpness  of  out- 
line that  would  shame  the  fine  cutting  of  an  etching;  to  find  the  ground 
under  your  feet,  over  the  whole  immense  surface,  carpeted  with  the  same 
rich  tint,  underlying  arabesques  of  green  and  gray,  where  grass  and 
mosses  have  crept;  to  come  upon  masses  of  pale  velvety  gypsum,  set 
now  and  again  as  if  to  make  more  effective  by  contrast  the  deep  red 
which  strikes  the  dominant  chord  of  the  picture ;  and  always,  as  you 
look  through  or  above,  to  catch  the  stormy  billows  of  the  giant  mountain 
range  tossed  against  the  sky,  with  the  regal  snow-crowned  massiveness 
of  Pike's  Peak  rising  over  all,  is  something,  once  seen,  never  to  be  for- 
gotten. Strange,  grotesque  shapes,  mammoth  caricatures  of  animals, 
clamber,  crouch,  or  spring  from  vantage  points  hundreds  of  feet  in  air. 
Here  a  battlemented  wall  is  pierced  by  a  round  window;  there  a  cluster 
of  slender  spires  lift  themselves ;  beyond,  a  leaning  tower  slants  through 
the  blue  air,  or  a  cube  as  large  as  a  dwelling-house  is  balanced  on  a 
pivot-like  point  at  the  base,  as  if  a  child's  strength  could  upset  it.  Im- 
agine all  this,  scintillant  with  color,  set  under  a  dazzling  sapphire  dome, 
with  the  silver  stems  and  delicate  frondage  of  young  cottonwoods  in 
one  space,  or  a  strong  young  hemlock  lifting  green  symmetrical  arms 
from  some  high  rocky  cleft  in  another.  This  can  be  told,  but  the  mass- 
iveness of  sky-piled  masonry,  the  almost  infernal  mixture  of  grandeur 
and  grotesqueness,  are  beyond  expression.  After  the  first  few  moments 
of  wild  exclamation  one  sinks  into  an  awed  silence." 

The  reader  must  see  for  himself  these  grotesque  monuments, 
these  relics  of  ruined  strata,  these  sportive,  wind-cut  ghosts  of  the  old 
regime  here,  these  fanciful  images  of  things  seen  and  unseen,  which 
stand  thickly  over  hundreds  of  acres  like  the  molclering  ruins  of  some 
half -buried  city  of  the'clesert,  if  he  would  fully  understand. 

Out  of  the  many  other  sources  of  enjoyment  near  Manitou,  the  vis- 
itor will  by  no  means  neglect  the  Cave  of  the  Winds.  Though  you  may 
ride,  if  you  wish,  it  is  just  a  pleasant  walk  up  Williams'  Canon,  one  of 
the  prettiest  of  the  gorges  that  seam  the  rugged  base  of  the  great  Peak. 
The  walls  are  limestone,  stained  bright  red  and  Indian  yellow,  lofty, 
vertical,  and  broken  into  a  multitude  of  bastions,  turrets,  pinnacles  and 
sweeping,  hugely  carved  facades,  whose  rugged  battlements  tower 
hundreds  of  feet  overhead  against  a  sky  of  violet.  At  their  bases  these 
upright  walls  are  so  close  together  that  much  of  the  way  there  is  not 
room  for  one  carriage  to  pass  another,  and  the  track  lies  nearly  always 
in  the  very  bed  of  the  sparkling  brook.  You  seem  always  in  a  cul  de  sac 
among  the  zigzags  of  this  irregular  chasm,  and  sometimes  the  abundant 
foliage,  rooted  in  the  crevices  above,  meets  in  an  arch  across  the 
brightly-painted  but  narrow  space  you  are  tortuously  threading. 

Half  a  mile  up  the  canon,  at  the  end  of  the  roadway,  a  trail  goes 
by  frequent  turnings  up  the  precipitous  sides  of  the  ravine  to  where 
a  sheer  cliff  begins,  about  three  hundred  feet  higher.  Floundering  up 


48         THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

this  steep  and  slippery  goat-path,  we  arrived  breathless  at  a  stairway 
leading  through  an  arch  of  native  rock  into  a  great  chimney,  opening 
out  to  the  sunlight  above,  and  found  opposite  us  a  niche  which  served 
as  ante-room  and  entrance  to  the  cave 

The  history  of  this  cave  is  entertaining,  for  it  was  the  discovery,  in 
June,  1880,  of  two  boys  of  Colorado  Springs,  who  were  members  of  an 
"exploring  society,"  organized  by  the  pastor  of  the  Congregational 
Church 'there  to  provide  the  boys  of  his  Sunday-school  with  some  safe 
and  healthful  outlet  for  their  adventurous  spirits. 

The  cave,  as  we  saw  it,  is  a  labyrinth  of  narrow  passages,  occasion- 
ally opening  out  into  chambers  of  irregular  size  (and  never  with  very 
high  ceilings),  into  which  protrude  great  ledges  and  points  of  rock  from 
the  stratified  walls,  still  further  limiting  the  space.  These  passages  are 
often  very  narrow,  and  in  many  cases  you  must  stoop  in  crowding 
through,  or,  if  you  insist  upon  going  to  the  end,  squirm  along,  Brahmin- 
like,  on  your  stomach.  The  avenues  and  apartments  are  not  all  upon 
the  same  level,  but  run  over  and  under  each  other,  and  constantly  show 
slender  fox  holes  branching  off,  which  the  guide  tells  you  lead  to  some 
stygian  retreat  you  have  visited  or  are  about  to  see.  In  remote  portions 
of  the  cave  there  are  very  large  rooms,  like  Alabaster  Hall,  some  of 
which  are  encumbered  with  fallen  masses  and  with  pillars  of  drip  stone. 
The  cave  is  not  remarkable  for  large  stalactites  and  stalagmites,  but 
excels  in  its  profusion  of  small  ornaments,  produced  by  the  solution  of 
the  rock  and  its  re-deposition  in  odd  and  pretty  forms.  From  many  of 
the  ledges  hang  rows  of  small  stalactites  like  icicles  from  wintry  eaves, 
and  often  these  have  fine  musical  tones,  so  that  by  selecting  a  suitable 
number,  varied  in  their  pitch,  simple  tunes  can  easily  and  very  melo- 
diously be  played  by  tapping.  In  some  parts  of  "the  cave,  the  stalactites 
are  soldered  together  into  a  ribbed  mass,  like  a  cascade  falling  over  the 
ledges.  Elsewhere  the  "  ribbon  "  or  "  drapery  "  form  of  flattened  stalac- 
tites recalls  to  you  the  Luray  Caves,  though  here  it  is  carried  out  on  a 
smaller  scale  ;  while  in  this  particular,  as  in  many  others,  reminding 
one  of  the  magnificent  Virginia  caverns  only  by  small  suggestions,  in 
one  respect  this  cave  far  surpasses  in  beauty  its  Eastern  prototype.  The 
floors  of  many  rooms  are  laid,  several  inches  deep,  with  incrustations  of 
lime-work,  which  is  embroidered  in  raised  ridges  of  exquisite  carving. 
Again,  where  water  has  been  caught  in  depressions,  these  basins  have 
been  lined  with  a  continuous,  crowding  plush  of  minute  lime  crystals, 
—  like  small  tufted  cushions  of  yellow  and  white  moss.  Such  depressed 
patches  occur  frequently;  moreover,  the  rapid  evaporation  of  these 
pools,  in  confined  spaces,  has  so  surcharged  the  air  with  carbonated 
moisture,  that  particles  of  lime  have  been  deposited  on  the  walls  of  the 
pocket  in  a  thousand  dainty  and  delicate  forms, —  tiny  stalactites  and 
bunches  of  stone  twigs, — until  you  fancy  the  most  airy  of  milleporic 
corals  transferred  to  these  recesses.  Here  often  the  air  seems  foggy  as 


THE  LEGEND  OF  THE  CAVERN. 


49 


your  lamp-rays  strike  it,  and  the  growing  filigree-work  gleams  alabaster- 
white  under  the  spray  that  is  producing  its  weird  and  exquisite 
growth.  In  this  form  of  minute  and  frost-like  ornamentation,  the  cave 
excels  anything  I  know  of  anywhere,  and  is  strangely  beautiful. 

This  cavern,  however,  is  sadly  deficient  in  a  proper  amount  of  leg- 
endary interest.  No  human  bones  have  been  found,  and  no  lover's  leap 
has  been  designated.  This  misfortune  must  be  remedied;  and  I  have 
selected  a  dangerous  kind  of  a  place  at  which,  hereafter,  the  following 
touching  tradition  will  cause  the  tourist  to  drop  a  tear:  Many,  many 
years  ago  an  Indian  maiden  discovered  this  cave  while  eagerly  pursuing 
a  woodchuck  to  its  long  home;  the  home  proving  longer  than  she 
thought,  she  crept  quite  through  into  the  unsuspected  enlargement  of  a 
cave-chamber,  and  a  startled  congregation  of  pensive  bats.  She  told  no 
one  of  her  discovery,  because  she  had  not,  after  all,  caught  the  wood- 
chuck,  and  went  without  meat  for  supper.  A  noble  warrior,  who  had 
done  marvelous  deeds  of  valor,  loved  the  maiden.  He  wooed  and  she 
would,  but  the  swarthy  papa  would  n't.  Sadness,  anger,  surreptitious 
trysting  where  the  fleecy  cottonwood  waves  melodiously  above  the  crys- 
tal streamlet,  etc.,  etc.  The  irate 
old  warrior  brings  an  aged  brave, 
who  has  spent  his  whole  life  in 
doing  nothing  of  more  account 
than  cronifying  with  the  heart- 
sick girl's  father.  This  man  she 
must  marry,  and  the  young  suitor 
must  go.  Refusals  by  the  maiden, 
loud  talk  by  the  youth,  sneers 
from  the  old  cronies,  flight  of  the 
lovers  to  the  woodchuck's  hole, 
vermicular  but  affectionate  con- 
cealment, like  another  ^Eneas  and 
Dido.  The  woodchuck,  stealing 
forth,  sees  a  wolf  outside,  trying  to 
make  him  pay  his  poll-tax;  so  he 
sits  quietly  just  inside  his  safe 
doorway,  obscuring  the  light. 
Endeavoring  to  find  their  way 
about  in  the  consequent  darkness, 
the  imprisoned  lovers  pitch  head- 
long over  the  precipice  I  have 
referred  to.  Guide-books  please 
copy. 


RAINBOW    FALLS. 


Our  train  bore  a  pensive  party 
down  the  valley  of  the  Fontaine,  as 


50 


THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 


it  headed  for  Pueblo.  The  Musician  drew  a  plaintive  air  from  his  violin, 
and  as  the  friendly  mountain  range  receded  and  dipped  away  in  the 
West,  we  fell  to  wondering  when,  if  ever,  we  should  tread  those  vales 
again. 


IV 

PUEBLO  AND  ITS  FURNACES 


In  Steyermark — old  Steyermark, 

The  mountain  summits  are  white  and  stark; 

The  rough  winds  furrow  their  trackless  snow, 

But  the  mirrors  of  crystal  are  smooth  below; 

The  stormy  Danube  clasps  the  wave 

That  downward  sweeps  with  the  Drave  and  Save, 

And  the  Euxine  is  whitened  with  many  a  bark, 

Freighted  with  ores  of  Steyermark. 

In  Steyermark — rough  Steyermark, 
The  anvils  ring  from  dawn  till  dark; 
The  molten  streams  of  the  furnace  glare, 
Blurring  with  crimson  the  midnight  air; 
The  lusty  voices  of  forgemen  chord, 
Chanting  the  ballad  of  Siegfried's  Sword, 
While  the  hammers  swung  by  their  arms  so  stark 
Strike  to  the  music  of  Steyermark ! 

—BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

T  Is  a  fortunate  introduction  the  traveler,  fresh  from 
the  Eastern  States  and  weary  with  his  long  plains  jour- 
ney, gets  at  Pueblo  to  the  lively,  progressive,  booming 
spirit  of  Colorado.  Here  are  the  oldest  and  the  newest 
in  the  Centennial  State  — the  fragments  of  tradition 
that  go  back  to  the  thrilling,  adventurous  days  of  fur- 
trapping  and  Indian  wars ;  the  concentrated  essence  of  later  improve- 
ments; and  the  most  practical  present,  mingled  in  a  single  tableau,  for  a 
telephone  line  crosses  the  ruins  of  the  old  adobe  fort  or  Spanish 
"pueblo,"  which  gave  to  the  locality  its  name  when  it  was  an  outpost 
for  the  traders  from  New  Mexico. 

In  its  modern  shape  the  town  is  one  of  the  longest  settled  in  the 
State,  and  a  great  flurry  began  and  ended  there  years  ago.  Then,  neg- 
lected by  men  of  money,  Pueblo  languished  and  was  spoken  chidingly 
of  by  its  sister  cities  in  embryo.  Now  all  this  has  changed,  and,  per- 
haps aroused  by  the  prosperity  of  Leadville,  Pueblo  began  about  three 
years  ago  to  assert  herself,  and  to-day  stands  next  to  Denver  in  rank 
both  as  a  populous  and  as  a  money-making  center.  No  business  man 
or  statistician  could  find  a  more  deeply  entertaining  study  than  the 
investigation  of  how  this  rejuvenation  has  arisen  and  been  made  to  pro- 
duce so  striking  results.  Such  an  inquirer  would  find  several  large 

51 


52  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

industries  claiming  to  have  furnished  the  turning  point ;  but  it  is  evident 
that  the  few  who  faithfully  stood  by  the  comatose  town,  and  steadily 
struggled  toward  its  commercial  revival,  were  prompt  to  seize  upon  the 
altered  flood  and  take  advantage  of  the  tide  which  led  to  fortune.  The 
impression  once  advertised  that  Pueblo  was  shaking  off  her  lethargy 
and  about  to  become  a  second  Pittsburgh,  a  thousand  men  of  business 
were  quick  to  catch  the  idea  and  make  the  "  boom  "  a  fact.  Thus  from 
5,000  inhabitants  in  1875  she  has  come  to  over  15,000  in  1883. 

It  is  undoubtedly  true -that  the  Denver  and  Rio  Grande  railway  has 
done  more  to  aid  this  advancement  than  any  other  one  agency ;  but  an  im- 
portant impetus  was  given  to  Pueblo  in  1878,  when  a  company  of  gen- 
tlemen decided  to  build  a  smelter  here.  The  work  was  put  under  the 
charge  of  its  present  superintendent,  and  ninety  days  from  breaking 
ground  the  furnace  was  in  operation.  There  was  only  a  single  small 
one  at  first;  but  fourteen  are  running  now.  Then  there  was  a  diminu- 
tive shed  to  cover  the  whole  affair;  now  there  are  acres  of  fine  buildings. 
Then  a  dozen  men  did  all  the  work ;  now  from  380  to  400  are  employed, 
and  the  pay-roll  reaches  $375,000  per  annum.  That's  the  way  they  do 
things  in  Pueblo. 

This  smelter  is  on  the  northern  bank  of  the  river,  just  under  the 
bluff.  From  a  distance,  all  that  you  can  discern  over  the  trees  is  a  col- 
lection of  lofty  brick  and  iron  chimney-stacks,  and  wide  black  roofs. 
Coming  nearer,  the  enormous  slag-dump  discloses  the  nature  of  the 
industry,  and  testifies  to  the  quantity  of  ore  that  has  passed  through 
the  furnaces.  Though  on  the  banks  of  a  swift  river,  the  works  are  run 
by  steam,  which  can  be  depended  upon  for  steady  service,  and  on  which 
winter  makes  no  impression.  A  thousand  tons  of  coal  and  seven  hun- 
dred tons  of  coke  a  month  are  used,  the  cheapness  and  proximity  of  this 
fuel  forming  one  of  the  inducements  to  place  the  smelter  here.  Canon 
City  and  El  Moro  coals  are  mixed,  but  the  coke  all  comes  from  the  latter 
point.  At  the  start  an  engine  of  60-horse  power  supplied  all  needs, 
but  a  new  one  of  175-horse  power  has  been  found  necessary,  and  Den- 
ver was  able  to  manufacture  it.  As  for  the  machinery,  it  is  not  essen- 
tially different  from  that  in  other  smelters,  except  in  small  details,  where 
the  most  approved  modern  methods  are  made  use  of.  There  are  great 
rooms  full  of  roasting-oveus,  immense  bins  where  the  pulverized  and 
roasted  ore  cools  off,  elevators  that  hoist  it  to  the  smelting  furnaces,  and 
all  the  usual  appliances,  in  great  perfection,  for  charging  the  furnaces, 
drawing  off  and  throwing  aside  the  slag,  and  for  casting  the  precious 
pigs  of  bullion.  All  walls  and  floors  are  stone  and  brick  ;  everywhere 
order  and  neatness  prevail.  This  plant  has  already  cost  the  firm 
$200,000,  and  they  have  enough  more  money  constantly  put  into  ore  and 
bullion  to  make  $750,000  invested  at  the  works.  The  ore  is  bought 
outright,  according  to  a  scale  of  prices  which  is  about  as  follows:  Gold, 
$18.00  per  ounce;  silver,  $1.00  per  ounce;  and  copper,  $1.50  per  unit. 


SAMPLING    PRECIOUS  ORES. 


53 


This  is  reckoned  by  "dry  "  assay,  being  two  per  cent,  off  from  "  wet.  " 
For  the  lead  in  the  ore,  30  cents  per  unit  up  to  30  per  cent.,  40  cents  up 
to  40  per  cent.,  and  .45  when  over  40  per  cent. ;  but  both  lead  and  cop- 
per will  not  be  paid  for  in  the  same  ore.  From  the  total  is  deducted 
$20.00  as  fee  for  treating  it.  For  the  assaying  a  capital  laboratory  of 
several  rooms  is  provided,  where  two  assayers  and  two  chemists  are  con- 
tinually busy.  Every  lot,  as  purchased,  is  kept  separate  and  subject- 


GARDEN  OF  THE   GODS. 

ed  to  a  homeopathic  process  of  dilution,  until  a  sample  is  obtained 
that  represents  most  exactly  the  whole.  The  arrangements  for  crush- 
ing and  sampling  the  ore  are  very  complete,  and  a  large  number  of  lots 
can  be  handled  at  once.  When  the  final  sample  has  been  reached  it  is 
subjected  to  a  very  careful  assay,  not  only  to  determine  what  shall  be 
paid  for  it,  but  to  find  out  what  are  its  qualities  in  relation  to  the  pro- 
cess of  smelting.  This  process  requires  a  certain  percentage  of  lead,  a 
certain  amount  of  silica,  and  a  certain  proportion  of  iron  and  lime  in 


54  TUB  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

each  charge.  It  is  the  duty  of  the  assayers  and  chemists  to  ascertain 
precisely  the  proportions  of  these  ingredients  in  the  ore  under  considera- 
tion, in  order  to  know  how  much  lead,  iron,  lime  or  silica,  to  add  in 
order  to  make  a  compound  suitable  to  fuse  thoroughly,  even  to  the 
dissolution  of  the  desperately  refractory  zinc  and  antimony;  and  which, 
also,  shall  yield  up  every  particle  of  silver  and  gold.  The  iron  and  lime 
have  usually  to  be  added  outright  in  this  smelter;  but  the  proper  propor- 
tions of  lead  and  silica  are  obtained  by  combining  an  ore  deficient  in 
one  of  these  elements,  but  containing  an  excess  of  the  other,  with  ores 
oppositely  constituted.  It  is  one  of  the  advantages  of  the  smelter  at 
Pueblo,  that,  being  centrally  placed  and  down  hill  from  every  mining 
district,  it  can  draw  to  its  bins  ores  of  every  variety;  thus  it  is  able  to 
mix  to  the  greatest  advantage,  and  in  this  economy  and  the  attendant 
thoroughness  of  treatment,  lie  the  possibilities  (and  actuality)  of  profit. 
The  lime  for  flux  is  procured  three  miles  from  town,  and  costs  only 
$1.00  a  ton,  while  every  other  smelter  in  the  State  must  pay  from  $2.50 
to  $5.00.  Its  building-stone  is  a  splendid  quality  of  cream-tinted  sand- 
stone procured  in  the  mesa  only  a  short  distance  away.  So  widely  satis- 
factory have  been  its  results  that  the  Pueblo  smelter  does  the  largest 
business  of  any  in  Colorado.  I  saw  ore  there  from  away  beyond  Silver- 
ton;  from  Ouray  and  the  Lake  City  region;  from  the  Gunnison  country 
and  the  Collegiate  range  this  side;  from  Leadville  (competitive  with 
Leadville's  own  smelters);  from  Silver  Cliff  and  Rosita;  and,  finally, 
from  numerous  camps  in  the  northern  part  of  the  State.  The  last  was 
surprising ;  for  it  meant  that  all  that  weight  of  ore  had  been  brought 
hither  past  the  furnaces  at  Golden  and  Denver,  because  the  owners 
realized  more  for  it,  in  spite  of  excess  of  freight,  than  they  could  get  at 
home.  The  superintendent  told  me  that  they  handled  more  ore  from 
Clear  Creek  county  than  all  the  other  smelters  of  the  State;  and  he 
explained  it  by  showing  how  his  nearness  to  fuel,  and  consequent 
saving  in  this  important  item,  with  his  cheap  labor,  permitted  him  to 
bid  and  pay  more  than  any  other  smelter  could  for  choice  ores,  for 
which  a  premium  is  given.  These  facts  were  held  in  mind  when, 
encouraged  by  the  railway,  the  smelter  was  placed  here,  and  the  expecta- 
tions of  its  projectors  have  been  more  than  gratified.  The  present 
capacity  of  the  establishment  is  125  tons  of  ore  a  day  in  the  fourteen 
blast  furnaces,  and  100  tons  a  day  in  nine  large  calcining  furnaces. 
Expensive  improvements,  and  of  the  most  solid  character,  are  being 
made  constantly  in  all  parts  of  the  works.  The  most  important  of  these 
has  been  the  erection  of  machinery  for  refining  the  bullion,  which  has  a 
capacity  of  twenty-five  hundred  tons  a  month,  and  is  constructed  on  the 
best  known  principles.  It  has  been  customary  in  the  West  to  send  to 
New  York  the  lead  which  results  from  silver  refining  ;  it  is  made  into 
sheet-lead  and  leaden  pipe,  in  which  form  it  is  bought  by  wholesale  houses 
in  Chicago  and  St.  Louis,  to  be  again  sent  to  Colorado,  at  the  rate  of 


THE  STEEL    WORKS.  55 

perhaps  a  thousand  tons  a  year.  Now  it  is  proposed  to  keep  at  home 
the  profits  and  freightage  of  this  costly  and  heavy  material  in  house  con- 
struction. Machinery  has  therefore  been  added  to  make  up  all  the  lead 
into  sheets,  bars,  and  piping.  This  is  done  so  cheaply,  that  Pueblo  can 
now  send  it  across  the  plains  and  undersell  Chicago  and  St.  Louis  in  the 
Mississippi  valley.  The  supply  largely  exceeds  the  home  demand,  and 
a  new  export  for  this  State  has  thus  been  created.  Utah  will  henceforth 
yield  a  large  portion  of  the  bullion  to  be  refined.  Another  experiment 
will  be  the  refining  of  copper.  There  are  various  mines  in  New  Mexico 
and  Arizona — many  of  them  worked  in  ancient  days  by  the  Spaniards — 
which  supply  a  base  form  of  metallic  copper.  This  crude  copper  is  now 
nearly  all  sent  to  Baltimore,  and  there  refined  and  rolled.  The  New 
Mexico  division  of  the  Denver  and  Rio  Grande  will  soon  penetrate  the 
region  of  some  of  these  mines,  while  the  Atchisou,  Topeka  and  Santa 
Fe  makes  others  accessible.  Side-tracks  from  both  these  roads  run  into 
the  smelter's  enclosure.  To  bring  the  copper  here  will  therefore  be  an 
easy  matter;  and  it  can  be  produced  in  shape  for  commercial  use  much 
more  cheaply  than  any  Eastern  factory  is  able  to  turn  it  out. 

Another  large  factor  in  Pueblo's  revival  was  the  establishment  there 
of  the  steel  works.  These  are  the  property  of  the  Colorado  Coal  and 
Iron  company,  composed  of  the  leading  men  in  the  Denver  and  Rio 
Grande  railway,  so  that,  though  the  two  corporations  are  distinct,  their 
interests  are  closely  allied.  This  powerful  association  was  formed  in 
1879  by  the  consolidation  of  two  or  three  other  companies  having 
similar  aims,  and  it  became  the  owner  not  only  of  the  steel  and  iron 
works  here,  and  of  a  great  deal  of  real  estate,  but  also  of  nearly  all  the 
mines  of  coal  and  iron  now  being  developed  in  this  State.  Its  capital  is 
ten  millions,  and  its  principal  offices  are  located  at  South  Pueblo.  It 
employs  over  two  thousand  men  in  its  various  enterprises,  and  is  con- 
stantly enlarging  its  operations  and  perfecting  its  methods.  Many  of 
its  coal  banks  will  be  referred  to  in  other  paragraphs  of  this  volume. 
The  ore  derived  from  all  its  iron  mines  is  exceptionally  free  from 
phosphorus,  and  therefore  well  adapted  to  the  manufacture  of  steel. 
The  subjoined  analyses  exhibit  the  character  of  these  ores: 

Mag-    Manga- 

nesia.      nese.  Sulphur. 

3.12            .34  Trace. 

.81            .22  .014 

1.87  .006 

A  conservative  estimate  places  the  amount  of  iron  ore  the  company 
has  developed  at  over  two  millions  of  tons.  Besides  these  high-grade 
ores,  there  are  others  of  an  inferior  grade,  which,  being  mixed  with  mill- 
cinders,  will  produce  the  commoner  sorts  of  pig-iron,  suitable  for 
foundry-work.  Limestone,  valuable  as  flux,  is  quarried  from  a  ledge 
within  seven  miles  of  the  furnace,  with  which  it  is  connected  by  rail, 


Metallic 
Iron. 

Silica. 

Phos- 
phorus. 

Lime.    Alumina. 

Placer  

52.2 

12.64 

.051 

5.70            3.6 

Salfda  

65  8 

5.78 

015 

.34             1.5 

Villa  Grove. 

57.3 

5.03 

.019 

56  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

and  the  supply  is  practically  inexhaustible.  Gannister  and  fire-clay, 
also,  are  found  in  abundance  in  the  vicinity.  With  coal,  coke,  iron  and 
all  the  furnace  ingredients  radiated  about  this  point,  which,  at  the  same 
time  is  nearest  to  the  Eastern  forges  whence  must  be  brought  the 
massive  machinery  to  equip  the  works,  it  requires  no  second  thought  to 
perceive  that  South  Pueblo  offers  altogether  the  most  profitable  site  for 
vast  factories  like  these. 

Immediately  following  this  decision,  in  the  spring  of  1879,  a  large 
tract  of  mesa-land  was  secured,  beside  the  track  of  the  Denver  and 
Rio  Grande  railway,  about  a  mile  south  of  the  Union  Depot,  where 
not  only  the  foundations  of  the  mills,  but  a  village-site  was  laid  out  and 
numerous  side-tracks  were  put  down.  Very  soon  the  tall  chimneys  of 
the  blast  furnaces  began  to  rise  into  the  ken  of  the  people  of  Pueblo. 
Simultaneously  a  large  number  of  fine  cottages  were  built  as  homes 
for  workmen,  and  other  structures  were  set  on  foot,  among  them 
a  commodious  hospital,  for  joint  use  of  the  mills  and  the  railway 
company.  It  is  a  very  pleasant,  well-ordered  and  growing  little  town, 
known  as  Bessemer,  and  even  now  the  space  between  it  and  the  city 
is  rapidly  filling  up.  The  present  daily  output  of  the  blast  furnaces 
is  one  hundred  tons  of  pig-iron,  but  soon  a  twin  furnace  will  double 
the  productive  capacity  of  the  works.  Besides  the  furnaces,  the  plant 
includes  Bessemer  steel  converting  works,  a  rolling  and  rail  mill,  450  by 
60  feet,  a  nail  mill,  a  puddling  mill  and  foundry,  All  of  these  establish 
ments  are  in  every  way  equal  to  the  best  of  their  kind  in  the  East.  The 
blast  furnace  is  fifteen  feet  base  and  sixty-five  feet  high,  with  fire-brick, 
hot-blast  stoves,  and  a  Morris  blowing  engine.  In  the  steel  -  converting 
works  the  arrangement  of  the  plant  is  similar  to  that  of  the  new  Pitts- 
burgh Bessemer  Steel  Company,  which  has  given  exceptionally  good 
results.  The  rail  mill  plant  consists  of  Siemen's  heating  furnaces  and 
heavy  blooming  and  rail  trains,  and  the  puddling  and  nail  mills  are 
equipped  with  the  best  modern  machinery.  At  Denver  the  same  com- 
pany owns  a  rolling  mill,  where  bar  and  railroad  iron  and  mine  rails  are 
manufactured:  these  in  the  future  will  mainly  be  supplied  from  South 
Pueblo.  The  effect  upon  Colorado  of  this  forging  of  native  iron  for 
home  consumption  must  be  very  important.  All  iron  and  iron  ware  is 
nearly  doubled  in  value  by  the  necessarily  high  rates  of  freight  across 
the  plains.  Manufacturing,  now  that  the  crude  material  can  be 
obtained  on  the  spot,  is  cheaper  than  importing,  and  in  the  wake  of  the 
blast  furnace  must  follow  a  long  train  of  iron  industries.  Already 
negotiations  are  on  foot  for  the  establishment  of  extensive  stove 
works  (a  million  of  dollars  was  sent  East  last  year  from  Colorado  in 
payment  for  stoves  alone),  and  the  erection  of  car-wheel  shops  is  also 
contemplated.  Indeed,  in  this  mining  country,  which  also  is  a  region 
that  is  rapidly  filling  up  with  large  towns,  the  demand  for  manufactured 


STAT18T1V& 


57 


iron  of  all  sorts  is  very 
large.  It  is  another 
step  in  the  gradual 
movement  of  trade- 
centers  westward. 

A  still  clearer  idea 
of  the  great  value  of 
its  interests  to  the 
State,  and  of  its  local 
works  to  Pueblo,  may 
l)e  obtained  from  the 
report  of  the  produc- 
tions of  the  Colorado 
Coal  and  Iron  com- 
pany for  the  year  1882 
which,  briefly  summa- 
rized, aggregates  as 
follows:  Coal,  511,239 
tons  ;  coke,  92,770 
tons ;  iron  ores,  53,425 
tons;  merchant  iron, 
mine  rails,  etc.,  3,883 
tons  ;  castings,  2,752 
tons;  pig-iron,  24,303 
tons ;  muck  bar,  in 
four  months,  1,253 
tons;  steel  ingots,  eight  months,  20,919  tons;  steel  blooms,  eight  months, 
18,068  tons;  steel  rails,  eight  months,  16,139  tons;  nails,  four  months, 
16,158  kegs;  and  spikes,  six  months,  5,022  kegs. 

The  economy  of  location,  and  the  successful  results  attending  the 
establishment  here  of  the  great  enterprises  referred  to,  are  attracting 
many  others.  During  the  past  season  one  of  Leadville's  largest  smelters, 
having  been  destroyed  by  fire,  has  been  rebuilt  at  Pueblo,  and  more  will 
naturally  follow. 

The  mercantile  part  of  the  community,  however,  while  admitting 
all  the  claims  of  the  steel  works  and  the  smelter  to  their  great  and  benefi- 
cent influence  upon  the  destiny  of  the  new  town,  puts  forward  its  own 
claim  to  the  credit  of  commencing  the  progressive  movement.  When, 
by  the  extensions  of  the  railway  into  the  back  country  of  Colorado, 
merchants  began  to  perceive  that  at  Pueblo  they  could  buy  goods  of 
precisely  such  grades  as  they  desired  a  trifle  more  cheaply,  and  get  them 
home  a  trifle  more  expeditiously,  than  by  going  to  Denver  or  Kansas 
City,  Pueblo  began  to  feel  the  impulse  of  new  commercial  vigor. 
When  it  came  to  reckoning  upon  a  whole  year's  purchases,  the  slight 
advantage  gained  in  freight  over-  Denver,  to  all  southern  and  middle  inte- 


ENTRANCE  TO   CAVE   OF  THE   WINDS. 


58  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

rior  points,  amounted  to  a  very  considerable  sum.  Here,  far  more  than 
in  the  Eastern  States,  the  freight  charges  must  be  taken  into  account  by 
the  country  merchant  ;  particularly  in  the  provision  business,  where 
the  staples  are  the  heaviest  articles,  as  a  rule,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
those  on  which  the  least  profit  accrues.  This  consideration,  impressing 
itself  more  and  more  upon  the  good  judgment  of  the  mountain  dealers, 
is  bringing  a  larger  and  larger  trade  to  Pueblo,  until  now  she  is  begin- 
ning to  boast  herself  mistress  of  all  southern  and  middle  Colorado  and 
of  northern  New  Mexico.  She  can  not  hope  to  compete  with  Denver 
for  the  northern  half  of  the  State,  but  she  does  not  intend  to  lose  her 
grip  upon  the  great,  rapidly-developing,  money-producing  San  Juan, 
Gunnison  and  Rio  Grande  regions.  And  as  the  visitor  sees  the 
railway  yards  crowded  with  loaded  freight  trains  destined  for  every 
point  of  the  compass ;  notes  the  throng  of  laden  carts  in  the  furrowed 
streets;  observes  how  every  warehouse  is  plethoric  with  constantly 
changing  merchandise,  often  stacked  on  the  curbstone  under  the  cover 
of  a  canvas  sheet  because  room  within  doors  can  not  be  found ;  witnesses 
the  temporary  nature  of  so  many  scores  of  buildings  for  business  and 
for  domiciles,  and  learns  how  most  of  their  owners  are  putting  up  per- 
manent houses,  multitudes  of  which  are  rising  substantially  on  every 
side; — when  he  has  caught  the  meaning  of  all  this,  he  finds  that  Pueblo 
has  an  idea  that  her  opportunities  are  great,  and  that  she  does  not  pro- 
pose to  neglect  them  in  the  least  particular.  There  is  much  wealth 
there  now,  and  more  is  being  introduced  by  Eastern  investors,  or 
accumulated  on  the  spot,  not  only  in  trade,  but,  in  the  very  extensive 
herds  of  cattle  and  sheep  that  center  there.  Yet  this  seems  to  be  but  the 
incipience  of  her  prosperity, — a  prosperity  which  rests  on  solid  founda- 
tions, existing  not  alone  in  the  industries  I  have  catalogued  and  the 
trade  which  has  centered  there,  but  in  the  fact  that  values  are  not 
inflated  and  that  the  real  property  of  the  city  is  mortgaged  to  a  remark- 
ably small  degree. 

Pueblo,  though  I  have  treated  it  as  a  unit,  really  consists  of  two 
cities,  having  the  rushing  flood  of  the  Arkansas  between  them.  Each  has 
water-works,  and  civic  institutions  separately,  but  I  have  no  doubt  this 
cumbersome  duality  will  be  done  away  with  in  time.  It  is  on  the 
South  Pueblo  side  that  the  railways  center  at  the  Union  Depot.  The 
Atchison,  Topeka  and  Santa  Fe  sends  hither  daily  its  trains  from 
Kansas  City,  and  hence  the  Denver  and  Rio  Grande  forwards  its 
passengers  northward  to  Denver,  westward  to  Silver  Cliff,  Leadville, 
Salt  Lake  City  and  Ogden,  and  southward  to  El  Moro,  Alamosa,  Del 
Norte,  Durango,  Silverton  and  Santa  Fe.  It  is  on  this  side,  also,  that 
the  factories  are,  and  that  others  will  stand.  Here,  too,  are  being 
placed  the  great  wholesale  depots. 

There  is  too  much  rush  and  dust  and  building  and  general  chaos  in 
the  lowlands,  where  the  business  part  of  the  town  is,  to  make  a  residence 


THE  PLEASANT  HOMES  OF  PUEBLO.  59 

there  as  pleasant  as  it  will  be  a  few  years  later;  but  upon  the  high  mesa, 
whose  rounded  bluffs  of  gravel  form  the  first  break  upon  the  shore  of 
the  great  plains  that  extend  thence  in  uninterrupted  level  to  the  Mis- 
souri River,  a  young  city  has  grown  up,  which  is  admirable  as  a  place 
for  a  home.  Here  are  long,  straight,  well-shaded  streets  of  elegant 
houses;  here  are  churches  and  school  buildings  and  all  the  pleasant 
appurtenances  of  a  fine  town,  overlooking  the  city,  the  wooded  valley 
of  the  Arkansas,  the  busy  railway  junctions,  and  the  measureless  pla- 
teaus beyond.  One  gets  a  new  idea  of  the  possibilities  of  a  delightful 
home  in  Pueblo  after  he  has  walked  upon  these  surprising  highlands. 

Nowhere,  either,  will  you  get  a  more  inspiring  mountain  landscape — 
the  far  scintillations  of  the  Sangre  de  Cristo;  the  twin  breasts  of  Waha- 
toya;  the  glittering,  notched  line  and  clustering  foothills  of  the  Sierra 
Mojada;  the  great  gates  that  admit  to  the  upper  Arkansas;  and  Pike's 
"shining  mountain,"  surrounded  by  its  ermined  courtiers,  only  a  little 
less  hi  majesty  than  their  prince. 


V 
OVER  THE  SANGRE  DE  CRISTO. 


KALEIGH:  Fain  would  I  climb, 

But  that  I  fear  to  fall, 
ELIZABETH:  If  thy  heart  fail  thee, 

Why,  then,  climb  at  all? 

OWARD  the  middle  of  one  bright  afternoon  we  were 
pulled  out  of  Pueblo,  our  three  cars  having  been  at- 
tached to  the  regular  south-bound  express.  We  had 
fully  discussed  the  matter,  and  determined  to  go  on 
to  the  end  of  the  track,  or,  more  literally,  to  one  end — 
for  there  are  many  termini  to  this  wide-branching  sys- 
tem—  on  to  the  warm  old  plazitas  and  dreamily  pleasant  pueblos  of 
New  Mexico.  Why  not? 

But  so  inconsequential  and  careless  an  ' '  outfit "  was  this,  that  no 
sooner  had  our  minds  been  fairly  settled  to  the  plan  (while  the  shadow  of 
the  Greenhorn  came  creeping  out  toward  Cuchara  and  we  were  heading 
straight  into  its  gloom)  than  somebody  proposed  our  spending  the  night 
quietly  in  Veta  Pass. 

This  mountain  pass  and  its  "Muleshoe,"  dwarfing  in  interest  the 
celebrated  "Horseshoe  curve  "  in  Pennsylvania,  because  occupying  far 
jess  space,  just  as  the  foot  of  a  mule  may  be  set  within  a  horse's 
track  —  these  have  been  famous  ever  since  railroading  in  southern 
Colorado  began,  and  naturally  we  did  not  like  to  go  past  them  in  the 
darkness.  We  wanted  to  see  how  the  track  was  laid  away  around  the 
head  of  the  long  ravine,  whether  it  doubled  upon  itself  in  as  close  a 
loop  as  they  said  it  did;  and  whether  the  train  really  climbed  through 
the  clouds  about  the  brow  of  Dump  Mountain,  as  the  pictures  represented. 
So  we  told  the  conductor  to  drop  us. 

It  was  dark  by  the  time  we  had  been  left  in  good  shape  on  the  ter- 
race-like siding  in  Veta  Pass,  and,  weary  with  our  swift  run,  we  were 
quite  ready  to  shut  out  the  gathering  shades  and  be  merry  over  our  din- 
ner; but  first,  all  eyes  must  watch  the  departing  express  begin  its  climb 
up  Dump  Mountain.  Think  of  swinging  a  train  round  a  curve  of  only 
thirty  degrees,  on  a  very  stiff  grade,  and  with  a  bridge  directly  in  the 
center  of  the  turn!  That  is  what  this  audacious  railway  does  every  few 
hours  in  the  "toe  "of  the  Muleshoe.  From  our  lonely  night-gripped 


PER  ASPERA  AD  ASTRA.  61 

dot  of  a  house  on  the  wild  hill  side,  we  could  see  squarely  facing  us 
both  the  Cyclopean  blaze  of  the  fierce  headlight,  and  the  two  watch- 
ful red  eyes  glaring  scornfully  from  the  rear  platform;  by  that  we 
knew  that  the  train  had  doubled  on  its  own  length  of  only  six  cars. 
Then,  with  hoarse  panting  and  grinding  of  tortured  wheels  and  rails, 
the  two  powerful  locomotives  began  to  force  their  way  up  the  hill  side 
right  opposite  us,  the  slanting  line  of  bright  windows  showing  how 
amazingly  steep  a  grade  of  two  hundred  and  seventeen  feet  to  the  mile 
really  is.  The  beam  of  the  headlight  thrust  itself  forward,  not  level,  as 
is  its  wont,  but  aimed  at  a  planet  that  glimmered  just  above  a  distant 
ghostly  peak. 

"  Do  you  remember,"  murmurs  the  Madame  in  a  low  voice,  as  she 
stands  with  bated  breath  beside  me;  "do  you  remember  how  Thoreau 
advises  one  of  his  friends  to  '  hitch  his  chariot  to  a  star '  ?  Does  n't  this 
scene  come  near  his  splendid  ambition?  Will  that  train  stop  short  of 
the  sky,  do  you  think? " 

Surely  it  seemed  that  it  would  not,  for  only  when  the  stokers  opened 
the  doors  of  the  laboring  furnaces,  and  volumes  of  red  light  suddenly 
illumined  the  overhanging  masses  of  smoke,  touching  into  strange 
prominence  for  an  instant  the  rocks  and  trees  beside  the  engines,  could 
we  see  that  the  train  stood  upon  anything  solid,  or  was  moving  otherwise 
than  as  a  slow  meteor  passes  athwart  the  midnight  sky.  It  was  easy 
to  imagine  that  long  line  of  uncanny  lights  a  fiery  motto  emblazoned 
upon  the  side  of  the  dark  mountain,  and  to  read  in  it,  Per  aspera  ad 
astra. 

Yet  the  scene  was  far  from  fanciful.  It  was  very  real,  and  a  fine 
sight  for  a  man  interested  in  mechanical  progress,  to  watch  those  great 
machines  walk  up  that  hill,  spouting  two  geysers  of  smoke  and  sparks, 
and  dragging  the  ponderous  train  slowly  but  steadily  along  its  upward 
course.  Now  and  again  they  would  be  lost  behind  the  fringe  of  woods 
through  which  the  track  passed,  and  then  we  would  see  the  cone-like, 
rugged  spruces  sharply  outlined  against  the  luminous  volumes  of  smoke. 
A  moment  later  and  the  train  disappeared  around  Dump  Mountain,  with 
a  sardonic  wink  of  the  red  guard-lights  at  the  last;  but  presently  we 
had  knowledge  of  it  again,  for  a  fountain  of  sparks  and  black  smoke 
from  the  engines  blotted  out  the  scintillating  sky  just  above  the  highest 
crest  of  the  ridge. 

"  Suppose  it  had  broken  in  two  on  that  hill-side,"  remarks  the  Artist, 
as  I  am  carving  the  roast,  five  minutes  later. 

"It  would  n't  have  mattered,"  is  the  reply.  "  I  once  saw  a  heavier 
train  than  that  break  on  this  very  mountain,  the  three  rear  coaches  part- 
ing company  with  the  forward  portion  of  the  train." 

"  But  wasn't  that  criminal  carelessness?  "  cries  the  Madame,  who  is 
death  on  inattention  to  railway  duties.  I  should  hate  to  be  a  neglectful 
brakeman  before  her  gray  eyes  as  judge! 


62 


THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 


"Not  at  all,"  she  is  informed.  "The  cars  were  properly  coupled 
with  what,  for  all  any  one  could  see,  was  a  sufficiently  strong  link,  but 
the  strain  proved  too  great  for  the  tenacity  of  the  iron." 

"  Well,  I  suppose  they  went  down  the  track  a-flying,  or  else  over 
the  precipice." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it.  The  two  parts  of  the  train  stopped  not  more  than 
twenty  feet  apart.  When  the  accident  occurred  the  engineer  knew  it 
instantly  by  the  jerking  of  the  bell  -rope,  and  stopped  short.  As  for  the 
rear  cars,  they  were  brought  to  a  standstill  at  once  by  means  of  the 
automatic  brakes.  I  tell  you  they  are  a  great  institution,  and  indispens- 
able to  success  on  any  road  which  has  heavy  grades  to  overcome." 

'  How  do  they  operate?  " 

"  Well,  it  is  the  Westinghouse  patent  and  rather  complicated.  Bet- 
ter go  out  to-morrow  and  see  the  apparatus  on  the  engine.  It  works 
somewhat  in  this  manner:  When  the  valve  on  the  retort  under  each  car 
is  set  in  a  particular  way,  the  letting  off  of  the  '  straight'  or  ordinary 
air-brakes  causes  the  compression  of  an  exceedingly  powerful  spring  on 
each  set  of  brakes.  If,  however,  you  destroy  the  equilibrium  by  forci- 
bly parting  the  air  connection  between  that  car  and  the  locomotive,  as 
of  course  occurs  when  a  train  breaks  in  two,  the  great  springs  are 
released  and  jam  the  brake-shoes  hard  against  the  wheels,  gripping  them 
with  tremendous  force.  That's  what  happened  instantly  in  this  case, 
and  those  heavy  cars,  which  otherwise  would  have  carried  their  cargoes 
to  almost  certain  destruction,  halted  in  a  single  second." 

"But  —  what  if  —  "  began  our  lady  member  in  an  alarmed  tone; 


ALABASTER  HALL. 


RESOLVING    TO  CLIMB  LA    VET  A.  63 

whereupon  she  was  speedily  interrupted  by  the  learned  gentleman  who 
was  dividing  his  time  between  dinner  and  lecture  : 

' '  My  dear  Madame,  our  cars,  like  all  the  rest  on  this  admirably- 
guarded  railway,  are  provided  with  the  automatic  apparatus  I  have 
described.  Since  it  is  useless  to  pretend  to  one's-self,  or  anybody  else, 
that  an  accident  will  never  happen,  it  is  well  to  understand  that  every 
precaution  known  to  intelligent  management  has  been  provided  against 
any  serious  harm  resulting  when  things  do  go  wrong.  In  consideration 
oC  all  which  profound  explanations  I  think  we  deserve  a  second  glass 
of  claret.  My  toast  is :  The  Automatic  Brake !  " 

And  we  all  responded,  "  May  it  never  be  broken! " 

Sleep  that  night  was  deep  and  refreshing.  The  next  morning  broke 
cool  and  clear,  and  the  Photographer  proposed,  with  nearly  his  first 
words,  that  we  all  go  to  the  top  of  Veta  Mountain.  Only  the  crest  of 
one  of  the  spurs  could  be  seen,  and  this  did  not  appear  very  far  away, 
so  that  those  who  had  never  climbed  mountains  afoot  were  enthusiastic 
on  the  subject.  Now  in  the  humble,  but  dearly  experienced  opinion  of 
the  present  author,  the  old  saw, — 

"  Where  ignorance  is  bliss 
'T  were  the  height  of  folly  to  be  otherwise," 

fits  no  situation  better  than  mountain  climbing.  I  have  said  in  the  bit- 
terness of  my  soul,  on  some  cloud  -  splitting  peak,  as  I  tried  to  gulp 
enough  air  to  fill  a  small  corner  of  my  lungs,  that  the  man  who  belonged 
to  an  Alpine  Club  was  prima  facie  a  fool.  Scaling  mountains  for  some 
definitely  profitable  purpose,  like  finding  or  working  a  silver  mine,  or 
getting  a  wide  view  so  as  properly  to  map  out  the  region,  or  for  a  knowl- 
edge of  its  fauna  and  flora,  is  disagreeable  but  endurable,  because  you 
are  sustained  by  the  advantages  to  accrue ;  but  to  toil  up  there  for  fun — 
bah !  Yet  people  will  go  on  doing  it,  and  those  who  know  better  will 
follow  after,  and  the  heart  of  the  grumbler  will  grow  sick  as  he  sees 
of  how  little  avail  are  his  words  and  the  testimony  of  his  sufferings. 

It  was  so  this  time.  Admonitions  that  upright  distances  were  the 
most  deceiving  of  all  aspects  of  nature ;  that  the  higher  you  went  the 
steeper  the  slope  and  the  more  insecure  and  toilsome  the  foothold; 
these,  with  other  remonstrances,  were  totally  unheeded,  and  three 
misguided  mortals  decided  to  go.  Then  the  growler  yielded— what  else 
could  he  do?  He  had  survived  many  a  previous  ascent,  and  could  not 
afford  to  assume  a  cowardice  that  really  did  n't  belong  to  him.  So 
he  chose  that  horn  of  the  dilemma, and  left  the  reader  to  the  conclusion 
that  in  telling  this  tale,  after  the  previous  paragraph,  he  "writ  himself 
down  an  ass." 

All  went  but  the  Musician.  Among  the  gentlemen  were  divided 
the  photographic  camera  and  materials,  and  the  whisky,  while  the  Mad- 


64  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

ame  set  off  sturdily  with  field-glasses  over  her  shoulder,  and  a  revol- 
ver strapped  around  her  shapely  waist.  Dinner  was  ordered  for  two 
o'clock,  and  up  we  started.  The  Madame  wrote  to  her  friend  about  it 
as  follows  (the  letter,  I  declare,  smelled  of  camphor) : 

"  I  assure  you,  my  dear  Mrs.  McAngle,  that  not  more  than  a  hun- 
dred feet  had  been  gone  over  before  the  inexperienced  of  our  party  began 
to  feel  the  effects  of  rarefied  air,  although  thus  far  it  was  easy  enough 
walking.  There  was  no  path,  of  course,  and  we  simply  tramped  over  a 
grassy  slope  sprinkled  with  flowers  and  covered  by  trees  that  shaded  us 
from  the  sun.  Gorges  which  were  hardly  perceptible  as  such  from  the 
valley,  now  proved  to  be  uncomfortably  deep  gashes  in  the  broad  mount- 
ain-side, and  tiny  streams  came  down  each  one  of  them,  to  water  dense 
thickets  along  their  banks.  In  one  place,  about  a  thousand  feet  above 
our  starting  point,  we  came  across  the  remains  of  a  camp  made  by  some 
man  who  thought  he  had  found  precious  metal.  Dreary  enough  it  looked 
now,  with  its  dismantled  roof  and  wet  and  moldy  bed  of  leaves. 

"  By  this  time  breathing  has  become  a  conscious  difficulty.  I  speak 
in  the  present  tense,  my  dear,  because  the  recollection  is  very  vivid,  and 
it  seems  almost  as  though  I  am  ^again  trudging  over  those  sharp- 
edged  rocks.  Every  ten  minutes  further  progress  becomes  an  utter  im- 
possibility for  me,  and  rest  absolutely  necessary;  but  one  recuperates  in 
even  less  time  than  it  takes  to  become  exhausted,  and  starts  on  again. 
Nevertheless  I  can  not  go  as  fast  as  the  gentlemen,  who  have  no  skirts 
to  drag  along. 

"  Now  the  comparatively  easy  climbing  is  over.  Flowers  and  grass 
have  grown-  scarce,  and-  almost  all  the  trees  have  disappeared.  Nausea 
is  beginning  to  annoy  me,  and  I  was  never  more  glad  in  my  life  than 
now,  when  I  discover  some  raspberry  bushes  and  eagerly  gather  the  ripe 
fruit,  whose  pleasant  acid  brings  moisture  to  my  parched  mouth  and 
comforts  my  sad  stomach,  for  there  is  no  water  or  snow  here,  and  I 
know  it  would  not  be  best  to  drink  if  there  were. 

' '  Even  the  berries  are  gone  now.  Far  above  and  on  all  sides  I  see 
nothing  but  fragments  of  rocks.  For  centuries,  wind,  frost,  rain  and 
snow  have  been  hard  at  work  leveling  the  mountains.  They  have  broken 
up  the  hard  masses  of  yellowish  white  trachyte,  and  the  dikes  of  black 
basalt  into  small  pieces — some  as  minute  as  walnuts,  but  most  of  them 
much  larger,  with  sharp-pointed  edges  that  cut  my  feet.  Across  these 
vast  fields  the  wild  sheep,  thinking  nothing  of  jumping  and  gamboling 
over  such  steep  slopes  of  broken  stones,  have  made  trails  that  cross  and 
criss-cross  everywhere.  Availing  ourselves  of  these  is  some  help,  as  we 
all  settle  down  to  persistent,  never-ending  climbing. 

"  Up,  up,  up.  You  have  forgotten  how  to  breathe;  your  back  and 
head  are  aching;  you  have  found  a  stick,  and  lean  more  and  more  upon 
it ;  you  look  down  on  the  back  of  a  hawk  far  below  you  with  sullen 


FROM  A  MOUNTAIN  TOP.  65 

envy;  you  devoutly  wish  you  had  never  come,  but  will  not  give  up.  At 
length  a  stupor  creeps  over  you.  You  never  expect  to  reach  the  top,  but 
you  do  not  care;  old  long-forgotten  songs  go  through  your  brain  and  seem 
to  try  to  lull  you  to  sleep.  You  see  in  the  distance  one  of  the  strong  ones 
reach  the  summit  and  wave  his  hat;  you  are  beyond  sensation,  and  it  is 
all  a  dream.  Finally  you  stagger  over  the  last  ledge  and  throw  yourself 
down  on  the  top  and  feebly  call  for — whisky.  Mrs.  McAngle,  I  am  a 
teetotaller;  I  hate  whisky!  But  just  then  I  would  have  given  half  my 
fortune  had  it  been  necessary  for  the  one  swallow  which  did  me  so  much 
good." 

Well,  her  companions  having  more  strength,  didn't  feel  quite  so 
bad,  though  near  enough  so,  to  make  their  sympathies  strong.  The 
crest  having  been  gained,  the  Madame  lay  down  on  a  rubber  coat  under 
the  cap  rock  to  rest,  while  the  remainder  of  us  dispersed  in  search  of 
water.  But  let  me  quote  that  long  letter  again: 

"The  rocks,  when  I  had  recovered  strength  to  look  about  me,  I 
saw  were  crumbling  lavas  of  two  colors,  light  drab  and  dark  brown. 
Covered,  as  they  were,  with  lichens  of  brown,  green  and  red,  they  were 
very  pretty.  At  last  one  of  the  gentlemen  came  back,  carefully  carrying 
his  hat  in  both  hands,  which  he  had  made  into  a  sort  of  bowl  by  press- 
ing in  the  soft  crown.  This  I  soon  saw  contained  water,  but  such  water 
— foul  and  bad  tasting,  for  it  had  been  squeezed  from  moss.  But  we 
drank  it  through  a  'straw,'  made  by  rolling  up  a  business  card,  and  were 
thankful. 

"Refreshed,  and  becoming  interested  in  life  again,  the  old  hymn 
occurred  to  me,— 

•Lo,  on  a  narrow  neck  of  land 
'Twixt  two  unbounded  seas  I  stand.' 

v)nly  the  seas,  in  this  case,  were  broad  green  valleys,  and  were  bounded 
•n  the  distance  by  lofty  mountains,  best  of  ali  Sierra  Blanca,  across 
vhose  peaks  the  clouds  were  winding  their  long  garments  as  if  to  hide 
somewhat  the  sterility  and  ruggedness  of  their  friends.  Above  them  how 
intensely  blue  was  the  sky,  and  how  the  soft  green  foothills  leaning  against 
them  satisfied  your  eyes  with  their  graceful  curves.  Trailing  among 
them,  as  though  a  long  white  string  had  been  carelessly  tossed  down, 
ran  the  serpentine  track  of  the  railway,  and  the  famous  Dump  Mountain 
sank  into  the  merest  foot-ridge  at  our  feet.  On  the  other  side  of  the 
ledge  we  gazed  out  on  the  misty  and  limitless  plains,  past  the  rough 
jumble  of  the  Sierra  Mojada,  and  could  trace  where  we  had  come  across 
the  valley  of  the  Cuchara.  Nearer  by  lay  dozens  of  snug  and  verdant 
vales,  in  one  of  which  glistened  a  little  lake  tantalizing  to  our  still 
thirsty  throats. 

"  We  all  had  our  photographs  taken,  with  this  magnificent  scenery 


66  T1IE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

for  a  background — better  even  than  the  cockney-loved  Niagara,  we 
thought  —  and  strolled  about.  Not  far  away  we  hit  upon  a  prospect- 
hole.  The  miner  was  absent,  but  had  left  pick  and  shovel  behind  as 
tokens  of  possession.  How  intense  must  be  the  love  of  money  that 
would  induce  a  man  to  undertake  such  a  terrible  climb,  and  live  in  this 
utter  loneliness  and  exposure  !  Yet  they  say  that  many  of  the  best  sil- 
ver mines  in  Colorado  are  on  the  very  tops  of  such  bald  peaks  as  this. 

"At  last,  on  asking  my  husband  if  he  did  not  think  he  appeared 
like  an  Alpine  tourist,  I  found  him  recovered  sufficiently  to  say  that  we 
should  all  pine  if  we  did  n't  have  dinner  soon,  so  we  turned  our  faces 
homeward.  Now  I  hope  I  have  n't  wasted  all  my  adjectives,  for  I  need 
the  strongest  of  them  to  tell  of  that  descent.  It  was  frightful.  Feet 
and  knees  became  so  sore  that  every  movement  was  torture.  The  sun 
blinded  and  scorched  me,  and  the  fields  of  barren,  sharp  and  cruel  stones 
stretched  down  ahead  in  endless  succession.  Mrs.  McAngle,  however 
foolish  I  may  be  in  the  future  in  climbing  up  another  mountain,  I  never, 
never  will  come  down,  but  will  cheerfully  die  on  the  summit,  and  leave 
my  bones  a  warning  to  the  next  absurdly  ambitious  sight-seer.  When  I 
was  on  the  crest,  I  thought  what  an  idiot  the  youth  in  'Excelsior' 
was,  but  now  I  hold  him  in  high  respect,  for  he  had  the  great  good 
sense,  having  reached  the  top,  to  stay  there! " 

Returning  to  Veta  Pass,  the  promontory  where  the  track  winds  cau- 
tiously around  the  brow  of  Dump  Mountain — the  name  is  given  because 
of  a  resemblance  in  shape  to  the  dump  at  the  entrance  of  a  mine  tunnel — 
has  been  called  Inspiration  Point.  I  don't  know  who  christened  it; 
perhaps  some  would-be  hero  of  a  novel  by  G.  P.  R.  James.  If,  to  be 
in  character,  he  "paused  at  this  point  in  involuntary  admiration,"  there 
was  plenty  of  excuse,  for  one  of  the  loveliest  panoramas  in  Colorado 
unrolls  itself  at  the  observer's  feet. 

Coming  up  is  fine  enough,  if  you  see  it  on  such  a  day  as  the  gods 
gave  us.  The  Spanish  Peaks,  as  we  approached  from  Cuchara,  were  as 
blue  as  blue  could  be,  with  half-transparent,  vaporous  masses  hovering 
tenderly  about  them;  but  these  mists  stopped  short  of  Veta,  which  stood 
out  distinct  against  its  cloud-flecked  background,  majestic  in  full 
round  outlines  beyond  the  majority  of  mountains, — in  hue  purple  and 
sunny  white,  with  the  mingling  of  forests  and  vast  sterile  slopes.  North 
of  it  the  landscape  was  almost  hidden  under  rain-veils,  into  which  the 
sun  shot  a  great  sheaf -full  of  slanting  arrows  of  light,  and  beyond,  range 
behind  range  were  marked  with  phantom-like  faintness  of  outline.  A 
broad  canopy  of  leaden  clouds  hung  overhead,  down  from  the  further 
eaves  of  which  was  shed  a  wide  halo  radiating  from  the  invisible  sun 
above;  and  this  snowy  shower  had  stood  long  unchanged  before  our 
entranced  eyes,  making  us  believe  that  the  brown  cliffs,  toward  which 
we  were  running  so  swiftly,  were  the  gates  of  an  enchanted  land 


68  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

Now,  from  within  and  far  surmounting  those  portals,  we  stand 
gazing  abroad,  as  in  olden  days  they  looked  out  of  some  castle  tower 
through  and  beyond  the  great  fortress  arch.  The  typically  mountain- 
like  mass  of  Veta,  satisfying  all  our  ideals  of  how  that  style  of  elevation 
should  look  which  does  not  abound  in  rugged  cliff  and  sky -piercing  pin- 
nacles, but  is  smoothly  and  roundly  huge,  cuts  off  all  northward  out- 
look. Southward  the  crowded  foothills  of  the  divide  between  the  Rio 
Grande  and  the  Arkansas  hide  from  view  the  central  points  in  which 
they  culminate, — even  lofty  Trinchera,  whose  sharp  summit  was  so 
plain  a  landmark  at  the  southern  end  of  the  Sangre  de  Cristo  yesterday. 
Beyond  these  swelling  domes  and  gables,  and  ridges  of  green  and  gray, 
were  lifted  the  noble  pyramids  of  the  Spanish  Peaks,  their  angles  well 
defined  in  v  ~  ying  tints  of  purplish  blue,  and  their  grand  old  heads 
sustained  it  .nerous  rivalry.  (Illustration.)  Behind  us  was  only  a 
piney  slope,  close  at  hand:  but  ahead  —  the  world!  I  think  no  one  has 
ever  said  enough  of  the  beauty  of  this  picture  in  Veta  Pass.  From  the 
precipitous,  wooded  mountain-side  where  you  stand,  the  eye  follows 
the  little  creek  as  it  glides  with  less*  and  less  disquietude  down  through 
the  protruding  bases  of  the  diminishing  foothills,  into  the  slowly  broad- 
ening valley  where  the  willows  are  more  dense,  and  the  heather  and 
small  bushes  have  taken  on  brilliant  colors  to  vie  with  the  splendor  of 
aspen-patches  higher  up;  on  to  the  hay-meadows  fenced  with  the  many- 
elbowed  and  scraggy  faggots  of  red  cedar ;  on  past  the  little  park  where 
the  low  brown  adobe  houses  of  the  Mexican  rancheros  look  like  mere 
pieces  of  flat  rock  fallen  from  the  mountains;  on  into  the  midst  of 
minute  cornfields;  on  out,  beyond  the  surf  like  ridges  breaking  against 
the  base  of  the  range,  to  the  blue  and  boundless  sea  of  the  plains. 

The  western  side  of  the  Pass  is  a  tortuous  descent  through  contin- 
uous woods  and  lessening  hills,  until  you  emerge  upon  a  plain  where  the 
ragged  heights  of  the  Saguache  Mountains  fill  the  northern  horizon;  and 
as  you  turn  southward  the  glorious  serrated  summits  of  the  Sangre  de 
Cristo  range  come  into  view  behind  and  beside  you,  on  the  east.  This 
plain  is  the  San  Luis  Park,  the  largest  of  those  four  great  interior  pla- 
teaus—North Park,  Middle  Park,  South  Park  and  San  Luis— which 
lie  between  the  "Front"  and  the  "Main"  ranges  of  the  Rockies. 

It  has  been  truly  said  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  that  the  word 
" range "  does  not  express  it  at  all.  "It  is  a  whole  country,  populous 
with  mountains.  It  is  as  if  an  ocean  of  molten  granite  had  been  caught 
by  instant  petrifaction  when  its  billows  were  rolling  heaven-high." 

Nevertheless,  popular  language  divides  the  system  into  certain  great 
lines.  The  "Front  Range"  extends  irregularly  from  Long's  Peak 
to  Pike's  Peak,  then  fades  out.  The  "Main"  or  "Snowy  Range," 
which  is  the  continental  watershed  or  "  divide,"  begins  at  the  northern 
boundary,  in  the  Medicine  Bow  Mountains;  but  in  the  center  of  the  State 
breaks  out  of  all  regularity  into  several  branches,  so  that  it  is  only 


TRACING  THE  CONTINENTAL  DIVIDE. 


CREST    OF   VETA    MOUNTAIN. 

by  ascertaining  where  the  headwaters  of  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific  stream* 
are  separated,  that  one  can  tell  how  to  trace  the  backbone  of  the  conti- 
nent, for  many  of  the  spurs  contain  peaks  quite  as  lofty  as  the  central 
chain.  Thus  the  splendid  line  of  the  Sangre  de  Cristo,  running  south- 
eastward, only  divides  the  drainage  of  the  Rio  Grande  from  that  of  the 
Mississippi ;  yet  the  highest  peak  in  Colorado  belongs  to  it.  The  main 
chain,  on  the  contrary,  trends  southwestward  from  the  parallel  groups 
in  the  heart  of  the  State,  only  to  become  mixed  up  into  half  a  dozen 
branches,  all  of  enormous  height  and  bulk,  down  in  tha  southwestern 
corner.  Even  this  is  not  all,  for  westward  to  Utah  the  whole  area  is 


70  THE  GRE8T  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

filled  with  vast  uplifts,  standing  in  isolated  groups,  serving  as  cross- 
links, or  lying  parallel  with  the  general  north-and-south  lines  of  great 
elevation.  " I  suppose,"  says  Ludlow,  "that  to  most  Eastern  men  the 
discovery  of  what  is  meant  by  crossing  the  Rocky  Mountains  would  be 
as  great  a  surprise  as  it  was  to  myself.  Day  after  day,  as  we  were  trav- 
eling between  Denver  and  Salt  Lake,  I  kept  wondering  when  we  should 
get  over  the  mountains.  Four,  five,  six  days,  still  we  were  perpetually 
climbing,  descending  or  flanking  them;  and  at  nightfall  of  the  last  day, 
we  rolled  down  into  the  Mormon  city  through  a  gorge  in  one  of  the 
grandest  ranges  in  the  system.  Then,  for  the  first  time,  after  a  journey 
of  six  hundred  miles,  could  we  be  said  to  have  crossed  the  Rocky 
Mountains." 

Because  we  had  ascended  and  descended  Veta  Pass,  therefore,  and 
saw  on  our  left  the  seemingly  insurmountable  barrier  which  yesterday 
stood  at  our  right,  we  had  by  no  means  got  beyond  the  Rockies  ;  for 
out  there  "  mountain  billows  roll  westward,  their  crests  climbing  as  they 
go:  and  far  on,  where  you  might  suppose  the  Plains  began  again,  break 
on  a  spotless  strand  of  everlasting  snow." 


VI 

SAN  LUIS  PARK. 


The  plain  was  grassy,  wild  and  bare, 
Wide,  wild,  and  open  to  the  air. 


— TENNYSON. 


AN  Luis  Park,  exceeding  in  size  the  State  of  Connecticut, 
is  identified  with  the  earliest  and  most  romantic  history 
of  Colorado.  It  was  here  that  brave  old  pioneer, 
Colonel  Zebulon  Pike,  established  his  winter  quarters 
almost  a  century  ago,  and  was  captured  by  the 
Mexican  forces,  for  at  that  time  all  this  region  was 
Spanish  territory.  It  was  here  the  northernmost  habitations  of  the 
Mexican  people,  the  ranches  at  Conejos,  Del  Norte,  and  all  along  be- 
tween, were  placed,  and  so  became  the  first  farms  in  what  now  is  Colo- 
rado. Here  were  pastured  the  first  herds  and  flocks  of  the  early  settlers, 
and  the  great  Maxwell  grant,  whose  ownership  has  been  the  subject  of 
so  much  litigation,  included  a  large  portion  of  this  park.  To  this  region, 
long  ago  Governor  Gilpin  directed  the  attention  of  immigrants,  and 
lauded  it  as  the  "garden  of  the  world."  Gardening  is  practicable  here, 
without  doubt ;  but  colonists  have  found  other  parts  of  the  State  so 
much  more  favorable,  that,  in  spite  of  its  superior  advertising,  the 
park  has  kept  nearly  its  pristine  innocence  of  agriculture  outside  of 
the  old  Mexican  estates  along  the  principal  streams. 

That  Colorado  can  ever  produce  cereals  enough  for  the  sustenance 
of  a  large  population  is  doubtful.  The  great  rarity  and  dryness  of  the 
atmosphere ;  the  light  rainfall,  and  almost  instant  disappearance  of  moist- 
ure ;  the  large  proportion  of  alkaline  constituents  in  the  earth,  and  the 
climate  caused  by  great  altitude,  seem  to  handicap  this  region  when 
compared  with  the  Mississippi  valley  or  the  Pacific  coast.  By  irriga- 
tion only,  can  agriculture  thrive  in  this  State;  and  the  amount  of  arable 
land  that  can  be  cultivated  without  enormous  expenditure  for  irrigating 
canals  can  hardly  be  considered  wide  enough  to  long  supply  the  local 
population,  which  increases  faster  than  the  acreage  under  the  plow  is 
extended.  The  nature  of  the  soil,  and  the  effect  of  the  short,  hot  seas- 
ons, under  careful  regularity  of  watering,  combine,  however,  to  make 
the  product  of  Colorado  farms  extremely  heavy  to  the  acre,  and  of  the 
finest  quality  in  every  article  grown. 

71 


72  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

"The  San  Luis  valley,"  says  a  recent  report  to  the  Government, 
"bears  witness  to  the  wealth  of  the  produce  returned  by  the  soil  under 
proper  cultivation.  In  following  up  the  Rio  Grande,  the  Mexicans 
ascended  divers  tributary  waters,  and  upon  these  and  along  the  main 
river  can  their  apologies  for  farms  be  seen.  Generally  content  with  sim- 
ple existence,  but  little  variety  in  the  products  of  their  land  is  observed. 
The  turning-  of  the  earth  with  oxen  and  a  sharpened  stick,  the  threshing 
by  flail  and  trampling  under  foot,  and  the  crushing  of  the  grain  between 
stones,  can  be  so  frequently  seen,  that  the  charm  of  novelty  is  lacking 
and  one's  curiosity  is  soon  satiated.  Progress  is  not  their  hope  or  desire, 
and,  content  to  eke  out  a  bare  subsistence,  their  ambition  does  not  extend 
beyond  a  baile,  or  the  tripping  of  the  'light  fantastic,'  with  surroundings 
that  are  here,  as  a  rule,  far  from  enchanting. 

"  Their  cultivation  of  the  ground  tells  of  eastern  origin  and  tradi 
tions,  and  is  by  irrigation  from  acequias  or  canals.  Smaller  ditches  at 
intervals  lead  out  from  the  main,  and  furrows  of  earth  of  varying 
height,  connected  thereto,  are  raised  at  stated  points  parallel  to  one 
another,  cutting  up  the  entire  area  into  many  patches  nearly  square  and 
of  small  extent.  With  the  planting  of  the  seed  and  the  main  ditch 
filled,  all  the  smaller  outlets  and  various  sections  being  simultaneously 
overflowed,  the  entire  area  is  carefully  submerged,  the  little  furrows 
confining  the  water  in  each  section.  To  the  inexperienced  farmer,  the 
first  successful  irrigation  of  his  land  is  a  matter  of  considerable  labor 
and  pains.  Besides  the  thorough  moistening  of  the  earth,  obtained  by 
the  gradual  settling  of  the  waters,  a  fertilizing  process  is  at  the  same 
time  ensured.  These  streams  carry  in  solution  much  rich  and  valuable 
material  from  the  denudation  of  sections  drained  in  their  passage,  which 
is  left  in  deposit  like  a  substratum  of  manure.  The  latter  is  never  used, 
the  farmer  depending  on  irrigation  for  the  supply  of  those  constituents 
extracted  from  the  soil  in  the  growth  of  produce. 

"The  Rio  Grande  descends  from  seven  thousand  seven  hundred 
and  fifty  feet  at  Del  ISTorte,  to  seven  thousand  four  hundred  on  leaving 
the  State  for  New  Mexico.  Upon  its  western  side  numbers  of  locations 
are  along  the  Piedra  Pintada,  which  sinks  a  few  miles  from  the  Rio 
Grande,  the  Alamosa  and  La  Jara,  but  chiefly  along  the  Conejos,  the 
most  thickly  settled  of  all  its  tributaries ;  upon  the  eastern  side  are  the 
Trinchera,  Culebra,  Costilla,  the  Culebra  above  San  Luis  being  on  this 
side  the  seat  ot  largest  habitation.  In  the  upper  part  of  San  Luis  valley 
is  situated  the  finest  land  of  Ihe  section,  with  the  mountain  range  encir- 
cling it  upon  the  east,  north  and  west.  Exposed  only  upon  the  south, 
whence  do  not  come  the  heavy  snow  storms  and  coldest  winds,  it  con- 
tains the  best  lands  for  cereal  and  other  productions.  Drained  by  the 
San  Luis  creek,  and  the  Saguache,  its  tributary,  the  ranchmen  who 
have  located  along  the  streams  have  been  rewarded  for  their  labor  by 
very  abundant  crops  of  all  kinds.  Throughout  the  valley  large  herds  of 


FARMING  ALONG   THE  RIO   GRANDE.  73 

cattle  find  ample  sustenance,  the  property  mainly  of  Americans,  while 
numerous  flocks  of  sheep  of  Mexican  ownership,  are  driven  to  and  fro. 
The  valley  of  the  Conejos,  with  its  affluents,  San  Antonio  and  Los 
Pinos  creeks,  is  a  most  fertile  region.  Several  miles  east  of  Conejos, 
during  the  highest  stages  of  the  rivers,  in  June,  water  from  the  San 
Antonio  finds  its  way  into  the  former  river  above  the  latter's  mouth, 
forming  an  island.  This  section  is  especially  rich,  and  there  exists 
almost  a  natural  irrigation,  the  Mexican  ranchmen  raising  large  crops  of 
all  kinds  at  the  cost  of  but  little  labor  therefor. 

"  The  Alamosa  and  La  Jara,  during  the  lower  parts  of  their  courses 
upon  the  plains,  run  side  by  side.  At  the  foothills  they  diverge,  the 
head  of  the  Alamosa  being  in  the  northwest,  its  course  throughout  in  a 
generally  narrow  and  very  deep  canon,  while  the  upper  waters  of  the 
La  Jara  are  due  west.  All  the  portions  of  the  former  that  are  available 
for  agriculture,  are  its  banks  on  the  plain  and  a  short  part  of  its  canon- 
valley  within  the  foothills,  upon  which  the  Mexican  ranches  are  found. 
Upon  the  La  Jara  are  a  few  more  Americans  than  upon  the  former,  the 
ranch-owners  being  mainly,  however,  of  Mexican  descent.  A  tributary 
is  called  by  the  geographer  North  Fork,  but  is  locally  known  as  Aguas 
Calientes,  or  Hot  Springs  Creek,  and  where  its  land  is  represented  as 
suitable  for  grazing  only,  it  is  found  in  reality  to  be  adapted  to  the  agri- 
culture of  the  Mexicans,  ranches  at  intervals  being  passed  along  its 
banks. 

"  The  entire  course  of  the  La  Jara  may  be  likened  in  its  direction  to 
a  huge  frying-pan  in  outline,  the  long  handle  upon  the  plain  extending 
to  the  Rio  Grande,  the  basin  within  the  foothills  to  its  source.  Before 
reaching  the  plains  the  stream  flows  to  the  south,  east,  and  north,  the 
latter  part  in  a  steep,  precipitous  canon,  strewed  with  basaltic,  which 
the  road  avoids.  This  road,  built  by  the  county  over  a  natural  route, 
is  in  good  order,  and  affords  the  residents  of  the  lower  river  easy  access 
to  its  upper  part,  which,  as  we  ascend  and  pass  over  the  intervening 
rolling  foothills,  we  find  within  a  lovely  valley,  called  by  the  Mexicans 
El  Voile,  to  which  they  resort  for  hay.  The  volcanic  rocks  strewn 
along  the  foothills,  well  timbered  with  pinon,  we  leave  behind  us  as 
we  descend  into  the  valley,  a  basin  eroded  from  the  general  plateau  by 
the  waters  of  the  stream,  which  has  cut  for  itself,  in  its  lower  and  more 
rapid  descent,  a  small  but  impassable  canon.  This  valley,  several  miles 
long  and  of  a  varying  width  of  from  three-fourths  to  one  and  a  half 
miles,  is  a  beautiful  spot,  and  has  been  located  upon  by  several  persons 
for  cattle  ranches.  The  grazing  is  very  fine,  and  so  nearly  level  is  the 
land,  that  the  stream,  here  small  and  at  its  headwaters,  pursues  a  most 
tortuous  course.  Trout  are  found  more  abundantly  than  at  any  other 
point." 

While  we  can  scarcely  compliment  the  syntax  of  the  report  above 
quoted,  the  facts  are  trustworthy. 


74  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

Fairly  out  into  the  valley,  where  Ute  creek,  Sangre  de  Cristo,  and  one 
or  two  other  streamlets  unite  to  form  the  Trinchera,  stands  an  old  mil- 
itary post,  Fort  Garland.  In  one  of  the  canons  near  by  was  a  still  older 
one,  Fort  Massachusetts,  now  abandoned  or  used  only  as  a  cavalry  can- 
tonment when  a  larger  body  of  troops  is  assembled  here  than  there  are 
barracks  for.  In  1852  and  1856,  the  dates  when  the  two  forts  re- 
spectively were  founded,  the  Indians— Utes,  Apaches,  Comanches,  and 
Navajoes — were  all  troublesome,  and  the  men  were  kept  very  busy  in 
scouting,  if  not  in  resisting  attacks.  Now  the  crumbling  buildings  of 
adobe  shelter  only  a  score  or  so  of  men,  and  serve  merely  as  a  depot  of 
supplies,  a  large  amount  of  government  stores  being  guarded  here. 
Fort  Garland  is  a  pretty  place,  and  from  it  will  be  likely  to  make  his 
start  anybody  who  wishes  to  ascend  old  Sierra  Blanca,  the  loftiest  peak 
in  Colorado,  whose  triple  head  stands  grandly  opposite  and  near  the 
railway ;  the  United  States  Geological  Survey  is  his  sole  predecessor. 

Long  ere  this  we  had  become  domesticated  in  our  cars,  and  now  I 
may  digress  sufficiently  to  jot  down  a  little  description  of  them.  As  I 
have  said,  there  were  three,  and  we  spoke  of  them  as  our  "  train."  The 
first  was  a  parlor-car.  It  usually  ran  in  the  rear,  and  gave  us  the 
advantage  of  a  lookout  behind,  something  worth  having  among  the 
mountains.  This  car  was  not  homelike  enough  to  suit  us,  however, 
so  we  rarely  occupied  it,  when  we  were  stationary,  except  as  a  bed- 
room for  our  masculine  guests.  But  when  running,  this  car  was  our 
resort.  Into  it  we  would  hustle  the  Madame's  sewing-basket  and 
fancy  work,  a  lot  of  books  and  papers,  spy-glasses,  wraps,  and  lunch- 
eon, and  have  the  gayest  of  times  as  we  sped  along,  unconfined  by 
limited  space,  unsolicitous  about  baggage  or  appearances,  unannoyed  by 
other  passengers,  and  above  all,  thank  heaven!  safe  from  the  peanut- 
boy.  If  we  were  to  run  at  night  we  converted  it  into  a  sleeper.  Cur- 
tains were  hung  up  at  intervals,  making  staterooms ;  easy  chairs  were 
faced,  a  stool  placed  between  them,  then  a  mattress  spread  across,  form- 
ing a  capital  bed  ;  or  else  we  simply  cleared  a  place  on  the  floor,  spread 
our  mattresses  down,  and  camped.  Usually  both  methods  were  followed 
by  different  occupants.  It  was  snug,  there  was  good  ventilation,  and 
we  slept  such  slumbers  as  seemed  to  prove  us  in  the  poet's  category  of 
the  "just."  Where  a  long  stay  was  made,  cots  were  set  up,  and  the  car 
became  a  bed-room  exclusively.  I  doubt  whether  our  porter  enjoyed  it, 
though,  as  much  as  we.  He  rarely  rode  upon  its  easy  springs,  and  he 
had  a  constant  fight  with  circumstances  to  keep  it  neat. 

The  other  two  sections  of  our  train  were  box-cars,  fresh  from  the 
shops,  and  of  the  most  improved  pattern.  All  through  the  trip,  I  may 
say  in  advance,  they  rode  splendidly,  though  often  attached  to  express 
trains  which  rattled  them  along  at  twice  the  speed  the  maker  ever 
intended.  Each  of  these  cars  had  a  door  cut  in  one  end,  and  these 


76  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

door- way  ends  were  placed  in  juxtaposition  and  remained  so  always. 
At  first  two  elaborate  platforms  were  hinged  to  one  of  the  cars,  bridg- 
ing the  space  between  them;  but  they  were  smashed  on  almost  the 
first  curve,  after  which  we  laid  a  series  of  boards  down  from  one  buffer- 
head  to  the  other  and  took  them  up  whenever  we  moved — that  is,  if  the 
porter  did  n't  forget  it,  or  get  left.  Here  comes  in  the  chronicle  of  our 
steps,  the  portable  stairway  by  which  we  ascended  and  descended  to  and 
from  our  elevated  house  ;  sed  revocare  gradus, — "  but  to  recall  those 
steps  "  in  their  entirety  would,  I  fear,  be  a  hopeless  task.  The  first  set 
we  had  fell  under  the  wheels  and  immediately  became  of  no  further 
interest  to  us.  Then  our  invaluable  forager  found  this  second  set,  and 
thereby  saddled  himself  with  a  responsibility  he  never  could  shake  off. 
The  whole  Denver  and  Rio  Grande  railway  corporation  seemed  to  be 
bent  on  their  destruction.  Time  fails  me  to  tell  of  the  numberless 
occasions  when  they  were  apparently  crushed  by  some  jar  of  the  cars,  as 
they  stood  in  position  at  a  station,  and  of  the  wrenchings  that  required 
a  new  hammering  and  more  spikes  to  correct.  But  watched  jealously 
by  the  porter,  and  lashed  securely  on  the  end  of  the  car  when  we 
moved,  they  survived  it  all,  and  gave  us  facilis  decensus  from  first  to 
last. 

One  of  these  box-cars  became  kitchen  and  commissary  office.  A 
partition  was  thrown  across  one-third  of  the  distance  from  the  end, 
forming  a  room  for  our  porter  and  also  a  place  of  storage  for  our  sup- 
plies. There  was  everything  in  there,  from  a  pepper-box  to  a  mattress, 
and  from  a  lamp-chimney  to  a  Winchester  rifle.  It  had  a  table  which 
might  have  been  let  down,  two  windows,  and  sundry  racks  and  clothes- 
hooks.  The  remaining  two-thirds  of  the  car  was  devoted  to  the  kitchen. 
One  corner  contained  a  monstrous  ice-chest,  and  opposite  it  stood  a 
huge  wood-and-coal  box,  which  it  was  the  constant  ambition  of  our  boy 
to  keep  piled  with  kindling  stuff  almost  to  the  ceiling;  the  result  being, 
that  frequently  his  improvised  racks  would  come  to  pieces  with  the 
jarring  of  some  rapid  run,  and  the  fuel  be  heaped  up  "  mighty  promis- 
cuous "  on  the  floor.  The  other  corners  of  the  kitchen  held  a  fair-sized 
cooking-stove,  securely  bolted,  and,  lastly,  an  iron  water-tank,  as  large 
as  a  barrel  and  mounted  on  a  stand.  With  this  water-tank  we  had  a 
long  contest.  The  face  of  our  first  colored  cook,  never  much  more 
cheerful  than  the  big  end  of  a  coffin,  took  on  a  doubly  rueful  aspect  at 
the  conclusion  of  our  first  day  out.  The  tank  had  been  well  filled 
before  starting,  but  the  cover  fitted  so  loosely  that  half  a  barrel  or  so  of 
the  liquid  splashed  out,  and  the  floor  of  the  car  was  like  a  little  sea.  The 
Photographer  generously  sacrificed  a  blanket  to  spread  across  underneath 
the  cover,  and  we  were  careful  afterward  not  to  fill  the  tank  quite  to 
the  top ;  but  it  always  shot  jets  and  sprays  down  the  back  of  your  neck 
when  you  least  expected,  if  you  went  near  it  when  in  motion.  Then 
one  day  the  faucet  burst,  and  deluged  the  place  with  a  stream  like  that 


HOUSEKEEPING   ON    WHEELS.  77 

from  a  hose-pipe.  Next  it  fell  to  leaking,  and  so  to  the  end  of  the  trip 
we  had  that  persistently  mischievous  tank  to  contend  with.  Beside  the 
stove  stood  a  narrow  cupboard,  the  top  of  which  was  intended  to  be  the 
kitchen  table ;  but  we  found  water  leaking  through  into  the  flour,  etc., 
underneath,  and  so  built  another  table,  hinging  it  to  the  opposite  side  of 
the  car,  between  the  tank  and  the  fuel  box.  There  were  plenty  of 
shelves  and  racks;  and,  the  two  side-doors  having  been  fastened  shut,  the 
walls  of  the  car  were  soon  garnished  with  all  sorts  of  wares  that  could 
be  hung  up.  After  a  week  it  was  learned  how  to  stow  everything  so 
well  that  almost  no  breakage  occurred. 

The  dining-car  was  exactly  similar  in  size,  twenty-four  feet  long  by 
seven  feet  wide.  It  had  four  windows,  and  we  used  to  slide  back  the 
great  doors  on  one  or  both  sides  when  the  weather  was  warm  and  pleas- 
ant. If  cool  or  stormy  we  locked  them,  wedged  them  tight  and  caulked 
the  cracks,  yet  could  never  quite  keep  out  the  gales.  The  wind,  I  found, 
bloweth  not  only  where  "it  listeth,"  but  also  where  /  listed.  We  thought 
it  a  very  cheerful  place,  as  we  entered  this  snug  home — for  it  was  the 
"living-room"  of  the  train — after  a  hard  tramp,  or  gathered  about  the 
dinner  table  in  the  strong  rays  of  mail  lamps,  and  the  softer  light  from 
railway  candles.  The  gayly  striped  portiere  shutting  off  the  Madame's 
little  nook  of  a  bed-room  at  the  rear  end  of  the  car;  the  bright  oilcloth 
that  covered  the  floor;  the  rich  oak-brown  of  the  paint  on  the  door- 
frames, wainscoting,and  stanchions  that  at  frequent  intervals  supported 
the  roof  ;  the  ruddy  glow  of  the  Turkey-red  cloth  filling  all  the  panels, 
and  the  pictures,  books,  Indian  pottery,  burnished  firearms  and  bits  of 
decoration  here  and  there,  made  a  picture  that  never  lost  its  cheer  and 
air  of  comfort.  Here  were  my  friendly  books  and  writing-desk,  with  all 
the  little  literary  appliances,  and  pigeon-holes  full  of  manuscript,  memo- 
randa and  correspondence.  7  ^re  was  the  easy  chair  behind  the  spindle- 
shaped,  upright  stove.  Here  was  the  Madame's  rocking-chair  and  her 
work-stand,  while  the  parted  curtains  let  us  peep  into  a  diminutive  but 
carefully  convenient  boudoir  just  behind  her.  Here  stood  her  ward- 
robe— a  trunk  which  lost  its  identity  under  the  warm  zigzags  of  a 
Navajo  blanket;  and  here  our  hospitable  dining-table,  around  which, 
perched  on  camp-stools,  we  ate  good  food  with  royal  appetites,  drank 
red  wine  with  keen  delight,  and  summoned  all  the  imps  of  fun  to  laugh 
with  us  over  quips  and  quirks  to  which,  no  doubt,  the  mad  spirit  of  the 
day  lent  more  wit  than  the  brains  of  their  makers.  Shakespeare  says, — 

"A  jest's  prosperity  lies  In  the  ear 
Of  him  that  hears  It,  never  In  the  tongue 
Of  him  that  makes  It." 

Here  work  was  done,  too.  Have  I  not  seen  the  Madame  busily 
sewing,  and  quiet  ?  Did  not  the  Artist  often  paint,  I  know  not  how  long, 
without  speaking? — I  know  not  how  long  because  I  was  so  intent  upon 


78 


THE  CREST  OF  THE   CONTINENT. 


shaping  this  chronicle  you  read.  If  our  trip  had  been  all  picnic  and 
void  of  serious  purpose,  we  should  not  have  enjoyed  it  half  so  well. 
Charles  Lamb  asked  pettishly, — 

"  Who  first  invented  work,  and  bound  the  free 
And  holiday-rejoicing  spirit  down  ?" 

But  surely  our  holiday  was  fraught  with  a  deeper  zest,  because  our  not 

too  onerous  duties  now  and  then  encroached  upon  our  pleasures,  and  so 

made  us  value  merry  times  the  higher. 

Well,  now  you  may  understand  how  and  where  we  lived,  and 

moved,  and  had  our  work  and  play.    It  was  a  warm,  snug,  handsome 

home  and  office, 
bed-chamber  and 
kitchen  on  wheels. 
There  were  little 
hardships  and  an- 
noyances, no 
doubt,  but  why 
remember  them? 
Le  diable  est  mort ! 


The  railway 
down  San  Luis 
Park  is  straight 
as  a  surveyor's 
line,  and  trains 


SANGRE    DE    CRISTO    SUMMITS. 


THE  CONEJOS  SHEEP-HERDERS.  79 

often  run  at  a  high  rate  of  speed  with  perfect  safety.  At  Alamosa 
it  halted  in  construction  for  a  long  time.  The  town  then  became  the 
forwarding  point  for  all  southern  Colorado  and  New  Mexico.  Very 
large  commission  houses  were  placed  there,  enormous  trains  of  wagons 
and  pack  mules  were  coming  and  going,  stages  left  daily  for  Lake  City 
and  Gunnison,  Saguache  and  Pitkin,  Tierra  Amarilla  and  the  lower  San 
Juan,  Taos  and  Santa  Fe,  and  the  vim  and  excitement  of  an  outfitting 
station  prevailed.  But  presently  the  railway  moved  southward  and 
westward,  and  Alamosa  settled  down  into  a  quiet  yet  prosperous  place, 
with  a  local  agricultural  population  to  back  it,  and  the  headquarters  of 
the  second  division  of  the  railway  which  extends  to — to — well  towards 
Mexico. 

Twenty-nine  miles  south  of  Alamosa  is  Antonito,  where  the  line 
branches  off  to  the  San  Juan  country.  The  town  is  supported  by  the 
money  the  railway  and  the  passengers  spend,  and  is  quite  uninteresting; 
but  over  to  the  westward  is  the  larger  and  older  village  of  Conejos,  which 
is  better,  though  "  distance  lends  enchantment."  Conejos  means  hares  : 
probably  the  Mexican  pioneers  found  a  superfluity  of  jack-rabbits  there. 
The  place  has  been  a  farming  and  grazing  center  of  supplies  for  many 
years.  Along  Conejos  creek  are  numerous  small  Mexican  ranches,  good 
enough  types  of  their  sort  (we  shall  find  far  better  ahead),  but  the  town 
itself  has  been  Americanized  until  its  claim  to  being  a  Mexican  plaza  is 
about  lost;  nor  have  the  innovations  added  to  its  interest  in  any  degree. 
In  a  real  Mexican  town,  for  example,  the  church  is  always  an  entertain- 
ing place  to  visit,  because  it  is  ruinously  ancient  and  strange ;  but  here 
the  large,  well-conditioned  structure  has  been  roofed,  painted  and  mod- 
ernized until  it  is  not  worth  a  glance  except  from  the  point  of  comfort 
and  security  from  decay.  Annexed  to  it  is  an  academy  for  boys,  and 
another  for  girls,  both  under  the  charge  of  priests  and  nuns  of  the 
Roman  Catholic  Church.  These  schools  have  no  counterparts  among 
the  Mexicans  nearer  than  Santa  Fe,  and  have  a  wide  reputation. 

Lacking  interest  for  the  tourist,  the  practical  man  will  learn  that 
Conejos  is  a  very  fair  business  place  in  certain  lines.  It  is  the  head- 
quarters of  the  sheep  and  cattle  men  of  the  San  Luis  Park.  In  sheep, 
I  learn  that  although  about  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  are  sold  out 
of  the  park  annually,  fully  five  hundred  thousand  are  left.  The  large 
majority  of  these  are  of  the  inferior  sort  called  Mexican  sheep,  which  are 
worth  from  one  dollar  to  one  dollar  and  twenty-five  cents  a  head.  The 
better  minority  sell  at  one  dollar  and  fifty  cents  and  two  dollars  a  head, 
and  this  minority  is  increasing  through  a  constant  effort  to  improve  the 
breed  by  introducing  highly-bred  Merino  and  Cotswold  rams.  The 
average  yield  is  two  and  a  half  pounds  of  wool  annually,  and  the  pro- 
duct is  shipped  almost  entirely  to  Philadelphia,  for  use  in  making  carpets. 
Cattle  is  less  an  industry  here,  because  the  sheep  are  so  numerous  as 
to  consume  most  of  the  pasturage.  Something  like  ten  thousand  head, 


80         THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

however,  are  able  to  exist  in  the  park  and  adjacent  foothills,  and  are 
sold  to  great  advantage. 

Nearly  midway  between  Alamosa  and  Antonito,  and  easterly,  but 
within  sight  of  the  railway,  the  Mormon  settlements  of  Manassa  and 
Ephraim  have  been  founded,  and  have  now  a  population  of  about  six 
hundred.  These  people  do  not  practice  polygamy,  and  are  frugal, 
industrious  and  prosperous.  They  are  under  the  jurisdiction  of  the 
church  in  Utah,  which  also  maintains  similar  colonies  in  the  corners  of 
Arizona  and  New  Mexico  adjacent  to  the  Utah  and  Colorado  line. 


VII 


THE  INVASION  OF  NEW  MEXICO. 


There  are  mists  like  vapor  of  incense  burning, 
That  are  rolling  away  under  skies  that  are  fair; 

There  are  brown-faced  sunflowers  dreamily  turning, 
Shaking  their  yellow  hair. 


—MBS.  C.  L.  WHITON-. 


UR  stay  was  comparatively  not  as  long  as  our  talk  in  sandy 
San  Luis,  for  we  soon  left  its  pastures  behind  and  were 
steaming  southward,  but  with  slower  and  slower  speed. 
Again  we  were  twisting  our  toilsome  way  up  the  val- 
ley's "purple  rim,"  since  it  was  easier  to  go  over  the 
high  bank  than  down  through  the  rugged  canon,  where 
the  wagon-road  runs.  The  summit  of  this  ridge,  beyond  which  lies  the 
valley  of  the  Rio  Grande  in  New  Mexico,  is  not  attained  until  you  reach 
Barranca  ("  a  high  river-bank  "),  sixty-five  miles  from  Antonito,  and  one 
of  the  most  attractive  spots  in  the  region.  The  altitude  is  over  eight 
thousand  feet,  and  the  air  of  that  perfect  purity  extolled  in  all  that  is 
written  of  mountain  districts.  The  station,  with  its  half  dozen  accom- 
panying houses,  all  owned  and  occupied  by  those  in  the  service  of  the 
railway,  stands  in  the  midst  of  acres  of  sunflowers,  which  all  summer 
long  spread  their  yellow  disks  to  the  full  gaze  of  the  sun,  and  dare  him 
to  outshine  them.  I  have  seen  sunflowers  before,  but  never  in  such 
masses  and  splendor  of  tone  as  here.  Near  by  one  catches  sight  of 
the  green  of  the  leaves  and  stems  between,  like  the  mottled  plumage  of 
some  canaries,  while  the  mass  of  chrome-yellow  atop  is  picked  off  with 
maroon  dots  of  seed-centers.  Distance  loses  these  details  to  one's  eye, 
and  gives  only  a  billowy  stretch — a  glorious  sulphur  sea,  intense  as  burn- 
ished gold,  rolling  between  you  and  a  dark  green  shore  of  pifion  foliage. 
This  August  landscape,  indeed,  divides  into  three  great  portions,  relieved 
by  few  variations,  yet  never  for  a  moment  monotonous.  In  the  fore- 
ground are  the  brilliant,  owl-eyed  flowers ;  above  them  the  stratum  of 
well-rounded  tree-tops,  blackish  in  shadow;  after  that  the  far-away 
mountains,  delicately  green,  or  deep  blue,  or  washed  with  an  amethystine 
tint,  Arching  over  all  bends  the  cloudless  azure  of  the  canopy. 

Our  cars  safely  side-tracked,  the  Madame  and  I  wander  aimlessly 
about  during  the  warm  afternoon,  while  the  Musician  takes  his  rifle  and 
saunters  away  down  the  tapering  track,  and  Photographer  and  Artist 

81 


82         THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

set  resolutely  off  for  a  tramp  to  the  top  of  some  buttes.  Returning  in 
good  time  for  our  twilight  dinner,  the  rifleman  brings  no  game,  but  reports 
having  seen  a  cotton-tailed  hare  and  some  ravens.  The  climbers  come 
in  very  weary.  Their  buttes  were  far  away  and  lofty.  From  their 
summits  they  could  distinguish  Fernandez  de  Taos,  and  are  not  surprised 
to  learn  that  more  freight  is  gradually  being  transferred  thence  from 
here  than  from  Embudo,  the  designated  station  for  Taos.  They  could 
see  more  grand  peaks  than  they  could  count  on  their  fingers  and  toes; 
and  told  us  about  the  road  to  Ojo  Caliente,  the  Warm  Springs  of  New 
Mexico,  famous  for  almost  three  centuries. 

This  was  an  objective  point  twelve  miles  away;  but  the  stages  which 
now  run,  had  not  then  begun  their  daily  mail-trips,  so  we  had  to  dis- 
patch a  messenger  for  a  vehicle.  Three  Mexicans  lay  stretched  out  on 
the  station-platform  asleep.  They  had  lain  there  all  day  wailing  in  lazy 
patience  the  coming  of  the  pay-car  which  owed  them  a  few  dollars. 
For  uno  peso — one  dollar — one  of  them  consented  to  take  a  message  to 
Antonio  Joseph,  who  owns  the  springs;  and,  mounting  his  burro, 
scampered  off  with  an  appearance  of  tremendous  haste,  which  doubt- 
less diminished  as  soon  as  he  had  placed  the  first  thicket  behind  him. 

The  Madame  and  I  took  our  chairs  into  the  shadow  of  the  dining- 
car,  and  read  and  sewed  while  the  sun  sank  reluctantly  down.  It  was 
very  quiet,  the  humming  of  wild  bees  and  wasps  furnishing  almost  the 
only  sound.  Soon  I  noticed  that  between  our  glances  a  mound  of 
earth  had  been  thrown  up  about  a  dozen  feet  from  where  we  sat.  A 
moment  later  there  was  a  stirring  in  the  nearest  clump  of  sunflowers, 
some  soil  was  tossed  up,  immediately  followed  by  a  brown  nose  and 
shaggy  little  head,  which  instantly  disappeared,  only  to  come  up  again, 
pushing  before  it  a  handful  of  dirt  from  its  tunnel.  This  was  repeated 
a  dozen  times  or  more,  at  the  end  of  which  the  little  workman  came  on 
top  and  surveyed  his  surroundings.  He  saw  us,  but  as  we  kept  still  he 
took  no  alarm,  and  presently  let  himself  down  backwards  into  his  burrow. 
He  was  not  gone  "for  good,"  however.  In  a  moment  the  blunt,  stiff- 
whiskered  snout  and  black  eyes  peered  out,  and  made  a  grasp  at  a  stem 
of  the  sunflower.  It  was  large  and  tough,  and  the  first  bite  only  made 
it  tremble;  but  a  second  nipped  it  off.  Then  seizing  it  by  the  butt,— 
he  was  wise  enough  not  to  drag  it  leaves  foremost, — he  pulled  it  down 
into  his  hole,  and  apparently  carried  it  to  the  innermost  chamber,  for 
some  minutes  elapsed  before  he  returned  for  a  second  flower  stem,  to  add 
to  his  winter  stock. 

We  knew  him  well  enough.  He  was  the  gopher,  a  large  kind  of 
ground  squirrel,  not  easily  to  be  distinguished  from  a  prairie-dog  in 
race,  color,  or  previous  condition  of  servitude.  If  any  one  desires  to 
know  more  about  him,  let  him  "look  up  the  authorities,"  as  Professor 
Polycarp  P.  Pillicamp  would  say. 

That  evening  we  sat  in  the  parlor-car,  or  rather  lay  easily  on  the 


84  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

couch-like  chairs  reclined  to  their  utmost  limit,  and.  listened  to  the  Mu- 
sician's violin,  while  the  glorious  banners  of  the  retreating  day  paled 
slowly  from  view.  Opera,  sonata,  opera-boulfe,  ballad,  came  tenderly  to 
our  ears  and  floated  away  out  over  the  sun-flowers  and  into  the  pifions, 
where  the  few  birds  awoke  to  listen ;  and  perhaps  were  wafted  out  to 
the  rolling  plain,  whence  at  intervals  came  faintly  in  reply  the  long, 
yelping  howl  of  a  coyote. 

In  the  morning  we  were  awakened  with  the  announcement  that  our 
conveyance  was  ready.  It  had  come  at  midnight,  and  proved  to  be  only 
an  ordinary  farm-wagon,  with  springs  under  the  seats.  The  road 
wound  through  the  clustered  trees  and  crossed  open  glades,  as  though 
in  a  nobleman's  park;  passed  the  rocky  buttes,  whose  jutting  cliffs  were 
strangely  picturesque  in  their  Grecian  morning-robe  of  angular  shadows, 
and  descended  a  long,  stony  hill  to  the  mesa,  which  thereafter  it  trav- 
ersed for  ten  miles.  This  mesa  was  a  great  table-land  of  sand.  Whence 
it  had  drifted  was  widely  discussed ;  but  the  more  I  think  about  it,  the 
less  I  believe  it  had  drifted  at  all,  and  the  more  I  incline  to  the  opinion 
that  it  remained,  while  a  great  amount  of  formerly  overlying  earth  and 
partial  rock,  unprotected  by  the  thick  capping  of  lava  shielding  the 
larger  part  of  the  surface,  had  been  swept  away  by  water.  There  were 
plenty  of  gauges  to  help  to  a  judgment  upon  the  extent  of  this  denuda- 
tion. To  the  right,  a  long  mesa,  with  steep  sides,  extended  out  like  a 
promontory,  whose  level  basaltic  surface  was  a  thousand  feet  above  us  ; 
yet  that  was  a  valley  long  ago,  for  the  lava  took  it  as  a  channel.  Behind, 
across  the  Chama,  the  Jemez  mountains  lifted  themselves  in  rugged  out- 
line against  the  southern  sky.  They  are  volcanic ;  but,  almost  as  high 
as  they,  towered  the  flat-topped,  butte-like  mountain  of  Abiquiu,  which 
is  not  volcanic,  but  of  sandstone,  and  stands  as  a  mark  of  the  former 
level  of  the  country  there,  on  the  day  when  the  hot  basalt  came  hissing 
down  from  its  fiery  spout  now  lost  to  our  tracing.  On  this  dry,  sandy, 
cactus-loving  upland  grew  the  rich  grama-grass,  another  name  for  it 
being  panic- grass.  It  has  a  seed-head  which  is  neither  panicle  nor 
spike,  but  a  perfect  little  one-sided  brown  feather,  about  an  inch  long, 
Hanging  stiffly  at  right  angles  to  the  stalk,  and  at  its  very  summit.  It  is 
not  only  odd,  but  very  beautiful,  for  the  grass  grows  thinly,  and  every 
plumelet  is  visible. 

Our  progress  was  slow  and  monotonous ;  we  had  exhausted  our 
conversation  and  were  getting  tired  of  everything,  when  the  driver 
pointed  out  a  red  hill  to  the  right  as  our  destination,  and  presently, 
descending  a  steep  bench,  we  turned  up  the  valley  of  Ojo  Caliente, 
whose  former  banks,  like  those  of  all  these  southern  streams,  were  from 
one  to  five  miles  apart,  and  very  precipitous.  Between  these  the  river 
wound  its  way,  crossing  from  side  to  side  of  the  valley,  or  pursuing  the 
safe  "middle  course."  In  the  bends  of  the  stream  were  Mexican  farms 
and  the  most  dilapidated  of  adobe  houses,  some  part  of  nearly  every  one 


A  PRIMITIVE  WATERING  PLAGE.  85 

of  which  had  so  fallen  to  pieces  as  to  be  uninhabitable.  Our  guide  said 
the  land  was  poor,  and  we  believed  him.  Everything  showed  that  the 
people  were  poverty-stricken  and  almost  in  barbarism,  yet  they  had  an 
abundance  of  land,  pretty  well  watered,  and  great  flocks  of  sheep  and 
goats ;  we  met  a  single  flock  which  probably  contained  fifteen  hundred 
sheep.  Some  of  the  dwellings  had  wooden  gratings  in  place  of  windows; 
and  the  doors,  made  with  auger  and  axe,  had  been  rudely  carved  in 
an  attempt  at  decoration,  which  time,  smoothing  and  tinting,  had  ren- 
dered very  attractive  to  our  unaccustomed  and  curious  eyes.  Behind 
the  best  houses  often  would  lie  an  unfenced  bit  of  old  orchard,  grown 
almost  wild.  Such  a  half-ruined  plazita,  with  its  carved  doors  and 
grated  windows ;  with  its  corner  of  goat-corral,  and  conical  ovens  at  the 
side ;  its  grassy  roof,  and  high,  gnarled  trees  overhead ;  its  background 
of  river-bend  and  cornfield  and  red  rocks  and  distant  misty  mountains  • 
most  of  all,  with  its  foreign  humanity  peering  out  to  see  who  was  pass- 
ing, made  a  picture  which  threw  our  art-devotees  into  ecstacy ;  and  as 
each  was  passed  they  declared  they  would  sketch  it — when  they  came 
back!  That  the  declaration  was  kept  you  have  evidence,  though 
modified  into  a  general  view  of  Ojo  Caliente. 

Four  miles  up  from  the  bend  the  springs  were  reached,  and  we 
gladly  sat  down  to  a  dinner  beginning  with  Baltimore  oysters.  These 
springs  are  hot,  but  endurably  so,  after  one  has  tempered  up  to  it. 
They  flow  from  under  the  cliff  on  the  eastern  bank,  and  are  thence 
led  into  the  bath-houses  close  by.  Excepting  the  hotel,  which  will 
accommodate  from  fifty  to  seventy-five  guests,  the  only  other  build- 
ing is  a  large  supply-store;  but  you  will  usually  find  a  great  many 
people  living  in  tents  near  by.  These  warm  springs  are  noted  for  their 
curative  and  healing  qualities,  and  have  been  visited  for  many  years  by 
invalids,  with  miraculous  results.  They  do  tell  some  wonderful  stories 
of  relief  given  to  rheumatic  and  paralytic  patients  ;  while  diseases  of 
the  skin  vamos  at  once,  as  a  Mexican  attendant  phrased  it.  Such  an 
effect  is  to  be  expected,  when  you  find  heated  water  analyzing  into  the 
following  constituency : 

Sodium  Carbonate 196.95 

Lithium         "        21 

Calcium         "        4.17 

Magnesium41        2.18 

Iron  "        10.12 

Potassium  Sulphate 5.17 

Sodium  Chloride 38.03 

Silicic  Acid...  .     2.10 


Total 272.52 

The  fact  that  the  latitude  (36°  20')  and  inland  situation  give  a  mild, 
equable  climate  \n  winter,  and  the  altitude  (6,000  feet)  makes  the  sum- 
mer air  sweet  and  invigorating,  should  be  taken  into  account,  however, 


THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 


that  promote 
recorded, 
been    resorted      to 


OJO   CALIENTE. 

in   estimating    the    conditions 
the    speedy    gains     of    health 
That  these    springs    have 
from  remote  antiquity,  is  shown  ^*by  the    ledges    above, 

which  are  covered  with  very  ancient,  almost  obliterated,  ruins  of  those 
cliff  -  dwelling  aborigines  whose  houses  and  pueblos  are  scattered  in 
such  profusion  over  the  canons  tributary  to  the  Rio  Colorado  and  the 
lower  Rio  San  Juan.  We  heard  that  many  skeletons  and  relics  had 
been  found  there  by  casual  excavating,  and  so  went  up  to  try  our  luck. 
We  could  trace  not  only  the  bounds  of  several  closely  grouped  pueblos, 
but  in  many  cases  even  the  estufas  and  the  straight  walls  of  the  sepa- 
rate rooms.  A  little  shoveling  at  once  showed  us  that  these  were  made 
outwardly  of  uncut  stone,  and  inwardly  of  adobe,  which  resisted  the 
pick,  while  the  loose  earth  within  was  easily  removed.  We  could  only 
"coyote  round,"  as  a  western  man  calls  desultory  digging,  but  sa\v  how 
rich  a  treasure  to  the  archaeologist  would  be  exposed  by  systematic  exca- 
vations. In  searching  for  the  stone  metates  and  las  manas,  which  then 
as  now  constituted  the  corn-crushing  apparatus  of  the  common  people, 
the  Mexican  peasants  have  disclosed  many  ancestral  bones,  and  we 
kicked  about  parts  of  human  skeletons  lying  bleached,  on  the  surface,  at 
half  a  dozen  places.  At  last,  by  chance,  we  struck  a  skeleton  ourselves. 
It  was  that  of  a  young  person,  for  the  wisdom  teeth  had  not  yet  risen 
above  their  bone  sockets,  and  the  sutures  of  the  skull  were  open.  The 
bones  were  disordered,  so  that  we  obtained  only  a  few,  and  the  head 
had  been  crushed  in.  The  same  rude  dismemberment  and  lack  of  burial 
is  said  to  characterize  all  the  skeletons  discovered,  and  they  are  alv/ays 
found  within  the  walls  of  the  houses.  The  local  theo^  is,  that  an  earth- 


SEtfOR  VERSUS  BURRO.  ?'i 

quake  overtook  the  town;  but  I  believe  that  the  pueblo  was  attacked 
and  captured  by  enemies  during  the  wars  which  we  know  finally  resulted 
in  the  village-people  being  driven  out  of  all  this  region,  and  that  it  was 
burned  over  the  heads  of  the  citizens,  many  of  whom  were  killed 
within  their  very  homes.  The  presence  of  charcoal  all  through  the 
mounds  of  ruins,  with  various  other  circumstances,  confirms  this  reas- 
onable explanation. 

We  noticed  fragments  of  pottery  scattered  everywhere.  Some  whole 
jars  have  been  exhumed,  I  was  told  Such  ancient  ware,  uninjured, 
would  be  of  priceless  value,  but  probably  it  all  fell  into  unappreciative 
hands,  who  despised  its  rudeness  in  comparison  with  the  smoother  mod- 
em ware.  The  samples  we  secured  showed  a  close  similarity  to  all 
the  broken  pottery  strewn  about  the  ancient  and  impressive  ruins  in  the 
Mancos  and  other  canons  of  the  San  Juan  valley,  and,  like  them,  had 
preserved  their  colors  in  the  most  wonderfully  brilliant  way.  Flakes 
of  obsidian  (volcanic  glass,  which  the  settlers  usually  call  topaz,  or 
Mexican  topaz)  were  very  common,  and  I  picked  up  one  large  core, 
whence  scales  had  been  chipped.  They  used  this  excellent  material  for 
their  arrow-points  and  spear-he&,ds,  and  we  bought  and  were  given  a 
score  or  more  of  very  fine  specimens  of  such  obsidian  points,  but  found 
none  except  some  broken  ones,  during  our  hurried  look.  We  were  told 
that  a  javelin-head  of  this  material,  over  a  foot  in  length  and  exquisitely 
worked,  had  been  dug  up  here  by  a  fortunate  prospector  for  relics,  and 
that  he  had  refused  fifty  dollars  for  it. 

Opposite  the  hotel  and  springs  was  a  poor  little  Mexican  hamlet 
called  also  Ojo  Caliente,  where  an  odd  old  church  invited  inspection. 
But  between  us  and  it 

"  There's  one  wide  river  to  cross," 

—and  the  bridge  gone.  What  then?  The  Artist,  the  Photographer,  the 
Musician,  "all  with  one  accord  began  to  make  excuse."  It  was  left  for 
the  only  remaining  male  member  of  the  party  to  make  the  effort,  nor 
did  he  propose  to  wade;  but  how?  The  whole  circle  shrugged  their  con- 
tented shoulders  and  answered,  "  Quien  sabe!" 

Down  in  front  of  the  hotel  stood  a  cross-eyed  Mexican  with  a 
vicious-looking  black  burro.  Yes,  he  would  let  the  Senor  Americano 
take  him,  but  he  could  not  go  with  the  Senor,  because  of  the  rheumatism 
in  his  knees,  for  which  he  had  come  over  to  the  waters.  So  the  "  Senor" 
marched  down  to  the  post  to  which  the  burro  was  connected  by  a  small 
rope  looped  about  his  neck.  The  untying  of  that  rope  was  the  scene 
for  an  action,  Senor  vs.  donkey.  The  sarcastic  remark  of  the  Musician, 
"Now  you  have  met  your  match!"  was  scarcely  heard.  It  was  not  the 
Senor's  vocation  to  chase  that  black  burro  around  the  yard,  but  he  made 
it  so  without  hesitation  for  a  few  minutes,  devoting  himself  with  the 
utmost  diligence  to  the  duty.  The  extreme  levity  of  the  idle  spectators 


88  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

showed  how  utterly  unable  they  were  to  appreciate  a  really  good  piece 
of  burro-chasing  when  they  saw  it.  Finally  the  course  of  the  work 
brought  the  operators  in  close  proximity  to  an  old  locust  tree  that  had 
not  cumbered  the  ground  in  vain  with  its  useless  trunk,  as  it  had  seemed 
to  do  for  years  past.  The  Sefior  skillfully  put  the  donkey  on  the  other 
side,  and  dexterously  wound  his  end  of  the  line  around  the  sturdy 
trunk,  whereupon  the  burro,  like  grandfather's  clock,  "stopped  short." 
So  would  the  adventure  have  done,  had  not  the  Mexican  brought  his 
squint  to  bear  upon  the  scene,  and,  after  a  calculating  survey,  hobbled 
rheumatically  to  the  Sefior's  assistance.  Clasping  both  arms  enthusiastic- 
ally about  the  donkey's  thick  neck,  he  made  signs  for  the  cable  to  be 
cast  oif  and  the  Sefior  to  mount. 

The  saddle  consisted  of  a  pair  of  wishbone-shaped  wooden  crotches, 
fastened  together  on  each  side  by  a  cross-bar  at  their  lower  extremities. 
The  whole  was  then  covered  with  raw-hide,  which  by  its  shrinking 
made  the  affair  solid,  while  a  cinch  of  the  same  material  secured  it  to  the 
little  beast's  back.  A  sheepskin  was  spread  underneath,  in  lieu  of  a 
blanket,  and  wooden  stirrups  dangled  by  rude  straps  at  the  sides.  It 
was  a  matter  of  agility  to  get  into  this  primitive  saddle,  and  the  stay  was 
likely  to  prove  extremely  brief,  for  the  moment  the  Mexican  let  go  his 
loving  embrace,  the  burro  ducked  his  head  and  made  off  in  a  swift,  short 
circle,  which  came  near  disposing  of  the-  Sefior  at  a  tangent,  through 
centrifugal  force.  Resisting  this  philosophical  demonstration  by  lock- 
ing his  legs  together  around  the  burro's  body,  he  finally  overcame  the 
circular  intention  by  pounding  the  brute's  head  on  one  side,  for  there 
was  no  bridle  and  bit  with  which  to  guide  him.  The  lookers  on 
averred  afterwards  that  it  was  as  good  as  watching  a  yacht  turn  the 
lightship,  to  see  the  rolling  skill  with  which  the  Senor  veered  away 
toward  the  gate,  stumbled  across  the  stony  bottom,  and  dashed  into  the 
swift  river.  He  himself  remembers  the  devout  thankfulness  with  which 
he  found  himself  unwet  on  the  other  side,  and  the  terror  with  which  he 
discovered  that  his  animal  had  broken  into  a  gallop  that  threatened 
to  dislocate  every  rib  and  rattle  down  his  vertebrae,  as  a  child  tumbles 
over  a  pile  of  letter-blocks.  What  could  he  do?  If  it  seemed  almost 
impossible  to  stay  on,  it  was  altogether  so  to  get  off.  There  was  no 
halter  on  which  to  pull,  no  mane  to  grasp,  and  frenzied  whoas  only 
urged  that  wicked  donkey  faster.  But  a  happy  thought  came.  He  had 
heard  a  fruit-seller  at  Conejos  say  c7iee  !  cJiee  !  to  his  burros.  Whether 
they  stopped  or  went  faster,  after  it,  he  couldn't  remember,  but  it  was 
worth  trying.  Chee  !  chee  !  chee  !  burst  from  his  frantic  lips.  Instantly 
the  beast  came  to  a  standstill,  almost  impaling  his  rider  on  the  sharp 
pommel.  It  was  a  success,  and  his  anatomy  was  safe  again.  After  that, 
control  was  easier.  A  dig  of  the  heel  in  his  ribs  made  the  burro  go ;  a 
bang  on  the  side  of  his  head  steered  him  away  from  the  wrong  direction, 
and  a  blow  on  the  other  side  taught  him  he  had  diverged  too  far  from 


A  LINGUISTIC  INTERVIEW.  80 

the  middle  course,  while  chee!  cheef  stopped  him  altogether.  So  with 
trepidation  and  shying  in  a  corn-field,  and  perilous  climbing  of  steep 
rocks,  at  last  the  hamlet  was  reached,  and  the  labor  of  dismounting 
painfully  accomplished. 

In  the  door  of  one  of  the  low  mud  houses  sat  a  woman,  nearly  hid- 
den under  the  usual  black  shawl,  which  she  had  now  drawn  down  over 


EMBUDO,    RIO    GRANDE   VALLEY. 

her  swarthy  face.  The  Senor  advanced  and  doffed  his  hat.  You  are  a 
Spanish  scholar,  yet  perhaps  would  not  have  understood  as  well  as  that 
peasant  woman,  had  you  seen  or  heard  the  conversation. 

"  Waynass  deeass,  Seenyora,"  began  the  tourist. 

"Buenas  dias,"  came  faintly  out  of  a  fold  in  the  mantilla. 

"  Yocayrolaverolaeglahssay, "  was  the  Senor's  next  parrot-like  re- 
mark, evidently  understood  by  his  veiled  listener,  for,  pointing  to  a  little 
man  slouching  past,  she  answered : 

"  No  tengo  Have — alii !  "  and  disappeared  in  the  cave-like  darkness 

•4 


90  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

of  her  windowless  dwelling.  Meanwhile  the  man  had  gone  on,  sub- 
limely indifferent  to  the  Senor's  cries  and  beckoning,  and  when  followed, 
was  found  in  the  midst  of  his  half-naked  family,  greedily  devouring  a 
melon,  which  he  had  opened  by  dashing  it  to  pieces  on  the  stone  door- 
sill,  and  was  now  gouging  out  with  his  knuckle.  After  he  had  quite 
finished  this  pleasing  operation,  lie  got  the  keys  of  the  church,  and, 
accompanied  by  a  little  girl,  led  the  way  to  the  sacred  edifice,  whose 
outer  court,  surrounded  by  a  mud  wall  a  dozen  feet  high,  was  secured 
with  a  padlock. 

The  church  itself  of  course  was  built  of  adobe,  the  facade  being 
supported  on  the  right  of  the  door  by  a  great  sloping  buttress,  which 
was  not  only  a  brace,  but  had  served  in  place  of  a  ladder  to  those  who 
built  the  roof  and  parapets.  At  each  corner,  in  front,  a  little  protuber- 
ance hinted  that  the  architect  had  side-towers  in  his  mind,  while  the 
center  was  carried  up  into  a  low  gable,  surmounted  by  a  square  bit  of 
clay  work  and  timber,  bearing  a  wooden  cross  and  sustaining  a  home- 
made bell,  whose  greenish  and  rough-cast  exterior  gave  it  an  appearance 
of  the  most  corroded  antiquity.  Recent  rains  had  evidently  damaged 
the  walls  very  much,  for  great  hollows  had  been  washed  in  them. 

Unlocking  the  axe-hewn  and  wooden-pinned  doors,  always  innocent 
of  paint,  the  Sefior  and  the  Mexican  uncovered  their  heads,  and  the  little 
girl  at  once  knelt  down,  crossing  her  hands  on  her  breast.  Unlike  the 
old  sister  who  exhibits  the  ancient  chapel  of  Our  Lady  of  Guadalupe  at 
Santa  Fe,  and  never  leaves  her  knees  during  the  whole  visit,  however, 
this  pious  young  maiden  sprang  up  in  a  minute  and  trotted  round,  as 
full  of  curiosity  for  the  white  stranger  as  he  was  for  la  yglesia. 

This  poor  church  was  more  forlorn  than  most  of  its  fellows.  The 
clay  floor  had  lately  been  a  pool  of  water,  and  its  drainage  had  ploughed 
deep  furrows  and  left  soft  holes.  The  little  round  box  of  a  pulpit, 
painted  in  streaks  of  red  and  blue,  had  replaced  its  lost  stairway  with 
a  ladder,  and  its  sounding-board  was  a  spoon-shaped  piece  of  plank  about 
the  size  of  a  chair-seat,  inside  which  was  traced  a  white  dove  on  a  blue 
ground,  its  wings  outspread  in  full  conventionality.  Nothing  so  good 
as  a  draw  shave  had  ever  worked  out  the  supports  of  the  altar-rail,  be- 
hind which  the  floor  was  planked.  The  altar  itself  bore  in  the  center  an 
image  of  the  Virgin  Mary,  about  half  life  size,  dressed  much  like  a  great 
doll.  On  each  side  of  her  were  tall  tallow  candles,  set  in  rough  holders 
whittled  out  of  billets  of  wood  into  a  rounded  pillar  form;  and  all  about 
the  altar  were  small  sconces  stamped  out  of  tin  (generally  devoid  of 
mirror),  and  cheap  prints,  colored  and  uncolored,  of  the  Savior  wearing 
the  crown  of  thorns,  Madonnas,  and  other  sacred  subjects. 

The  altar-cloth  was  calico,  trimmed  with  frills  and  flounces  of 
cotton  lace  and  red  muslin,  more  or  less  ragged  and  dirty.  On  either 
side  of  the  altar,  facing  each  other,  hung  crosses  bearing  wooden  figures 
of  Christ  crucified.  These  also  were  about  half  life  size,  and  were  naked, 


AN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.  91 

except  that  one  had  a  piece  of  cotton  twisted  about  the  loins,  and  the  other 
had  a  short  skirt  of  dirty  tarletan,  suggesting  the  ballet.  These  effigies 
were  painted  a  dull  white,  and  hung  in  the  most  agonizing  attitudes, — 
suffering  intensified  by  the  long-drawn  lines  of  the  haggard  faces,  the 
slant  of  the  eyes,  and  the  dropping  of  the  lower  jaw.  To  produce  a  more 
horrible  representation  still,  the  carver  had  given  the  forms  extreme 
emaciation,  the  ribs  standing  apart,  the  abdomen  sunken,  the  bones  and 
cords  of  all  the  limbs  dreadfully  prominent.  Add  to  this  cadaverous 
appearance  a  network  of  red  streaks  tracing  the  principal  veins,  and 
great  splashes  and  runlets  of  blood,  and  you  have  an  image  awful  be- 
yond conception.  Besides  these  large  models,  there  was  a  little  one  of 
the  same  style,  which  I  should  have  been  tempted  to  have  sacrilegious- 
ly stolen,  had  not  the  keeper  been  watching  me  closely;  and  in  several 
niches,  small,  tinsel-clothed  puppets,  wjiich  the  man  told  me  were  San 
Francisco,  Patron  of  the  Church,  and  our  Lady  of  Guadalupe,  who 
heads  the  list  of  sanctified  virgins  in  all  the  Mexican  churches.  Stand- 
ing in  these  little  holes  in  the  half-whitewashed  wall  of  mud,  under  their 
ragged  little  curtains,  the  corporal's  guard  of  saints  looked  very  forlorn; 
and  I  do  not  wonder  the  peasants  refuse  to  go  into  the  building  after 
dark,  no  matter  how  fast  they  may  mumble  their  prayers. 

More  interesting  than  the  images  were  some  silken  and  fringed  ban- 
ners, decayed  almost  to  shreds,  and  the  spear-points  of  their  staves  well- 
rusted,  which  once  belonged  to  the  Spanish  soldiery;  for  this  church  is 
one  of  the  oldest  in  the  new  world.  Centuries  have  rolled  over  its 
adobe  walls,  and  its  roof  of  closely-set  logs  and  adze-carved  brackets, 
has  echoed  to  the  clank  of  men  in  armor,  as  well  as  to  the  chant  of 
half-Indian  farmers  and  shepherds.  It  is  rude  and  ugly  and  barbaric, 
representing  a  phase  of  Christianity  in  some  respects  far  worse  than 
the  simple  religion  those  Indians  over  at  the  Pueblos  thought  good,  a 
thousand  years  ago.  But  the  little  church  is  not  to  be  despised,  and 
the  awe-struck  faith  of  its  miracle-loving  parishioners  may  be  more 
acceptable  than  the  gilded  worship  of  many  a  rich  and  learned  congre- 
gation nearer  the  sea. 


VIII 
EL  MEXICANO   Y  EL  PUEBLOAXO. 


THEN  they  descended  and  passed  through  the  luxuriant  yellow  plains,  the  sunset 
blazing  on  the  rows  of  willows  and  on  the  square  farm-houses  with  their  gaudy  picture 
over  the  arched  gateway,  while  always  in  the  background  rose  the  dark  masses  of  the 
mountains,  solemn  and  distant,  beyond  the  golden  glow  of  the  fields.— WILLIAM  BLACK. 


OME  just  in  time  from  Ojo  Caliente,  we  hooked  our  cars 
the  same  evening  to  the  never-tiring  express,  and  trusted 
ourselves  to  its  guidance  without  a  thought  of  danger. 
When  daylight  had  fully  come,  and  from  the  "purple- 
blazoned  gateway  of  the  morn  "  the  sun  was  begging 
entrance  at  our  curtained  windows,  somebody — I  think 
it  was  the  Photographer,  a  man  utterly  without  nervousness  or  regard 
for  it  in  others  —  startled  all  our  tranquil  slumbers  by  the  shout, 
"  Comanche!'' 

It  was  not  Indians  though — only  a  respectable  sort  of  canon,  with 
great  black  walls,  and  rugged  hills  wedged  apart  by  the  stream,  and  the 
train  hanging  invisibly  half-way  betwixt  top  and  bottom,  always  going 
in  and  out  of  nooks  and  gulches,  always  gliding  cTown  nearer  the  water, 
until  finally,  between  strange  farm-fields,  the  noble  Rio  Grande  came  in 
view,  and  once  more  we  ran  upon  a  level  track.  Emerging  from 
Comanche  Canon,  a  bend  to  the  southward  is  made  along  the  western 
bank  of  the  lower  part  of  the  canon  of  the  Rio  Grande.  In  many  por- 
tions of  this  narrow  valley,  only  about  twenty  miles  in  length,  fea- 
tures of  great  interest  to  the  eye  occur,  equaling  the  walls  of  Comanche, 
which  was  itself  ignored  until  the  railway  brought  it  to  light.  The 
river  here  is  about  sixty  yards  wide,  and  pours  with  a  swift  current 
troubled  by  innumerable  fallen  rocks.  To  day  it  is  swollen  and  yellow 
with  the  drift  of  late  rains,  but  in  clear  weather  its  waters  are  bright  and 
blue,  for  it  has  not  yet  soiled  its  color  with  the  fine  silt  which  will 
thicken  it  between  Texas  and  Mexico. 

On  the  opposite  bank,  near  the  level  of  the  river,  runs  the  wagon 
road  that  General  Edward  Hatch,  formerly  commander  of  the  depart- 
ment of  New  Mexico,  cut  some  years  ago  to  give  ready  communication 
between  his  headquarters  at  Santa  Fe  and  the  posts  in  the  northern  part 
of  the  Territory  and  in  southern  Colorado.  This  is  the  track  now  followed 
by  all  teamsters,  but  the  old  road  from  the  south  to  Taos  ran  over  the 
hills  far  to  the  eastward,  passing  through  Picuris. 

M 


A  VENDOR  OF  PRODUCE.  93 

An  odd  conical  hill  (shown  in  our  engraving)  stands  near  the  mouth 
of  the  canon,  dividing  the  current  of  the  river.  Noticing  its  resemblance 
to  a  funnel,  the  Mexicans  called  it  Embudo,  and  the  adjacent  station 
takes  the  same  name.  Embudo  is  chiefly  important  as  the  point  of  de- 
parture for  Taos,  thirty  miles  distant. 

While  breakfast  was  preparing  we  were  interrupted  by  the  sudden 
apparition  at  the  side-door  of  our  car  of  two  long  ears,  then  a  forehead, 
bulging  by  reason  of  the  bushy  hair  that  covered  it,  and  immediately 
afterward  the  neck  and  shoulders  of  a  donkey.  But  if  you  say  donkey 
down  here  few  comprehend  you.  The  proper  word  is  burro  (boo-ro).  This 
animal  bore  upon  his  round  back  a  small  saw-buck  saddle,  from  each  side 
of  which  hung  a  square  panier  of  wicker-work.  These  paniers  were  not 
nailed,  but  the  willow  sticks  of  which  they  were  made  were  bound  into 
place  by  thongs  of  rawhide.  On  top,  between  them,  was  lashed  a  third 
square  basket,  which  would  hold  a  half-bushel.  Though  this  seemed  very 
bulky,  it  really  was  a  light  load  for  the  little  beast,  and  he  stepped  along 
briskly  ahead  of  the  wrinkled  old  Mexican  who  owned  him.  Shining 
through  the  wicker  receptacles  we  saw  green  rinds,  and  sang  out, — 

"Melones?" 

"Si,  Senor,"  came  the  husky  answer,  whereupon  the  burro  was 
seized  by  the  tail  and  brought  very  willingly  to  anchor.  Slipping  several 
of  the  sticks  out  of  their  leather-loops,  half  a  dozen  long  yellow  speci- 
mens, something  between  a  melon  and  a  cantaloupe,  were  held  up  for 
our  inspection.  We  hammered  them  with  our  knuckles,  testing  their 
soundness,  and  finding  some  to  suit,  enquired  the  cost, — 

"  Cuanto  pide  vm.  por  estos  melones?  " 

"  Dos  realles!  "  (two  shillings)  was  the  reply;  so  we  bought  three  at 
an  outlay  of  seventy-five  cents. 

They  proved  muskmelonish  and  somewhat  tough,  but  by  no  means 
bad.  There  seems  to  be  no  reason  why  much  better  melons  should  not 
be  raised,  since  the  conditions  are  favorable  and  every  farmer  does  more 
or  less  at  it.  This  question  why  served  to  spice  our  chat  at  luncheon.  It 
was  ultimately  concluded  that  the  continued  degeneracy  was  due  to  the 
fact  that  all  the  good  ones  were  stolen  and  eaten,  only  the  very  poorest 
being  left  to  mature  their  seeds;  thus  the  worst,  instead  of  the  best,  were 
used  to  propagate  from.  I  recite  this,  to  show  the  thoughtful  reader  that 
we  are  not  always  frivolous,  but  often  introduce  grave  themes  into  our 
discourse,  and  discuss  them  in  a  philosophic  way. 

Attaching  ourselves  to  the  locomotive  of  a  working  train,  after  the 
noon  repast,  we  were  hauled  down  the  valley  three  miles,  and  given  an 
opportunity  to  watch  the  men  repair  track  that  had  been  lately  torn  to 
pieces  by  water,  two  or  three  culverts  having  been  swept  out  and  the 
road-bed  completely  uprooted.  The  hills  at  that  point  slanted  down  to 
the  river  in  a  long  treeless  sweep,  sown  so  thickly  with  boulders  of 
basalt,  from  the  size  of  a  bushel  to  that  of  a  barrel,  that  even  the  sage- 


94  TJ.U  CHEST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

brush  could  find  scanty  footing  between.  Down  this  long  slope,  from 
the  mountains  behind,  had  come  one  of  those  raging  precipitations  of 
unmeasured  rain  to  which  ,the  West  has  given  the  expressive  name 
"cloudburst."  Truly,  when  one  of  these  incidents  of  Rocky  Mountain 
meteorology  occurs,  "  the  windows  of  heaven  are  opened."  To  such  a 
torrent  the  natural  rip-rap  opposed  a  very  slight  obstacle.  The  heavy 
and  closely  packed  rocks  were  lifted  and  rolled  and  hurled  headlong 
as  though  they  had  been  a  child's  marbles.  Wherever  any  earth  or  mere 
gravel  was  met,  it  was  plowed  up  and  dashed  away  in  a  moment,  while 
as  for  the  railway  bed,  its  embankments  were  demolished,  its  cuttings 
filled,  and  such  heaps  of  stones  piled  upon  its  distorted  track  in  some 
places  that  no  attempt  was  made  to  dig  it  out,  but  new  rails  w^re  laid 
in  a  different  spot.  They  were  rough  and  irregular  enough,  but  we  went 
safely  over.  Against  these  cloudbursts  no  railway  in  this  region  can 
provide;  and  there  is  nothing  to  be  done  but  rebuild  as  quickly  as  pos- 
sible The  skill,  energy  and  marvelous  speed  with  which  the  section 
men  do  this,  and  the  character  of  the  temporary  track  over  which  they 
run  their  trains  until  a  better  one  can  be  constructed,  excite  the  surprise 
of  every  one.  Railroading  in  the  West  is  as  unlike  the  similar  pursuit 
in  the  Atlantic  States  as  a  Colorado  silver  shaft  is  a  contrast  to  a  com- 
monplace granite  quarry. 

We  had  observed  on  the  further  side  of  the  river,  where  the  flat 
lands  were  continually  widening  between  the  stream  and  the  hills,  signs 
of  Mexican  habitancy,  and  at  the  washout  discovered  a  chapel  of  the 
Society  of  the  Penitentes,  into  which  the  flood  had  broken  a  great  gap 
near  the  foundation.  It  was  a  rude  little  house  of  mud,  but  well  plas- 
tered within,  and  perhaps  had  been  intended  as  a  dwelling  in  former 


NEW    MEXICAN    LIFE. 


THE  PENITENTES.  95 

days.  Creeping  in  through  the  breach,  we  found  no  furniture,  but  a 
pile  of  a  dozen  or  more  wooden  crosses,  which  had  been  carried  there 
by  the  doers  of  penance  at  Easter.  The  smallest  of  these  crosses  was 
more  than  ten  feet  in  height,  and  its  beams  at  least  six  inches  in  diame- 
ter. As  to  the  heaviest,  I  doubt  if  I  could  have  lifted  it  fairly  from  the 
ground.  Yet  the  poor  sinners  had  managed  to  get  them  across  their 
shoulders,  and  so  had  dragged  them  hither,  with  many  pains  of  outward 
penance  and  fearful  flagellations  of  conscience,  but  with  rich  reward  of 
pride  before  earthly  eyes,  and  promises  of  glory  in  the  world  to  come. 
From  where  they  had  been  brought,  or  by  whom,  there  was  no  record; 
but  their  ends  were  worn  diagonally  to  a  sharp  wedge  by  long  scraping 
over  the  stony  soil.  In  addition  to  these  were  several  small  crosses  of 
lath,  which  had  been  borne  by  the  priests,  typically;  some  tin  and 
wooden  candle  holders,  curious  little  lanterns,  and  one  of  those  rude 
religious  portraits  on  woods,  which  are  so  common  throughout  this 
section,  and  which  are  preserved  reverently  among  the  Mexicans  for 
generations. 

The  Penitentes  are  a  sect  within  the  Church,  which  the  priests  are 
said  to  have  been  discouraging.  Perhaps  this  has  had  some  effect,  for 
the  custom  is  in  decay,  a  result  due  more  to  the  railway  than  to  the 
cathedral,  I  fancy.  During  the  greater  part  of  the  year  the  Penitentes 
sin  and  are  sinned  against  like  other  people,  but  in  the  spring  they  atone 
for  it  by  wearing  coarse  clothes  under  a  sort  of  sacrificial  robe,  and  by 
torturing  and  starving  themselves  nearly  to  death.  Walking  in  pro- 
cessions, masked  beyond  recognition,  enduring  constant  castigations 
from  each  other,  bearing  over  the  roughest  roads  and  across  country  the 
heavy  crosses  we  have  seen,  and  with  the  "pride  that  apes  humility" 
enduring  the  utmost  suffering,  they  consider  themselves  to  have  laid  in 
a  stock  of  grace  sufficient  to  over-balance  all  possible  crime  during  the 
coming  twelvemonth.  The  practice  has  a  long  history,  but  amounts  to 
an  American  survival  of  the  Flagellants  of  Europe. 

A  few  miles  below,  the  Mexican  farms  and  orchards  became  more 
frequent,  the  little  settlement  of  Joya  was  noticed,  Plaza  Alcalde  passed 
by,  and  the  wide,  fertile  plain  of  San  Juan  opened  to  our  view.  Skirt- 
ing the  western  edge  of  this  (for  the  river  keeps  close  under  the  high 
bluffs  on  that  side),  we  ran  five  or  six  miles,  until  a  triangular  parting 
in  the  bank  opened  to  the  westward,  where  we  halted  on  a  side-track 
near  the  old  adobe  village,  but  new  railway  station,  of  Chamita.  The 
Rio  Chama  flows  into  the  Rio  Grande  here,  and  a  broad  valley  area  is 
the  result.  The  whole  of  this,  which  is  easily  irrigated,  is  under  tillage, 
and  just  now  looking  its  best.  It  is  therefore  a  green  and  prosperous 
landscape  we  gaze  upon,  bounded  by  reddish  benches  which  the  setting 
sun  brightens  into  splendor,  and  shut  in  by  blue,  lofty,  cloud-capped 
hills,  beyond  which  stand  the  guardian  summits  of  snowy  ranges. 

Up  the  Rio  Chama  cultivation  extends  almost  uninterruptedly  for 


96  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT 

many  miles,  and  there  are  several  villages  or  plazas.  Chamita  itself  is  on 
this  side — a  cluster  of  scattered  houses  along  the  bluff  through  which 
the  railway  has  made  a  deep  cut.  The  top  of  this  ridge  commands  a 
fine  view  up  and  down  the  Rio  Grande,  and  there  idle  figures  of  Mexi- 
can or  Indian  are  always  to  be  seen  watching  for  the  train  or  studying 
the  movements  of  almost  invisible  people  on  the  other  side  of  the  valley. 
Draped  in  black,  for  the  most  part,  motionless  and  immovable,  they 
remind  one  irresistibly  of  Poe's  picture :  — 

"  And  the  raven,  never  flitting,  still  is  sitting,  still  is  sitting, 
On  the  pallid  bust  of  Pallas,  just  above  my  chamber  door." 

This  point,  as  I  have  intimated,  is  in  the  midst  of  the  civilization 
of  northern  New  Mexico.  Twenty-five  miles  up  the  Chama  stands  the 
large  town  of  Abiquiu,  an  important  place  in  old  times ;  nearer  by  an- 
other plaza,  Cuchillo,  is  a  farming  center.  Not  far  away,  in  the  Rio 
Grande  valley,  are  San  Juan,  Santa  Cruz  and  Espanola,  the  latter  on 
the  western  bank  of  the  river  and  the  present  terminus  of  the  railwa}7" 
line  southward,  whence  stages  depart  regularly  for  Santa  Fe. 

A  Mexican  farmhouse  or  "  ranch"  looks  like  a  small  fort,  and  makes 
a  very  pleasing  picture,  as  you  may  observe  in  our  sketch.  It  is 
square,  rarely  more  than  one  story  high,  is  built  of  mud,  and  roofed  with 
immense  round  rafters,  the  ends  of  which  protrude  irregularly  beyond 
the  wall,  because  the  builders  have  been  too  indolent  to  saw  them  off. 
Over  these  rafters,  —  above  the  line  of  which  the  wall  extends  a  few 
inches, — are  laid  some  boards  or  a  stratum  of  poles,  and  upon  these  dry 
earth  is  spread  a  foot  or  more  deep,  with  rude  gutters  arranged  to  carry 
away  the  water.  In  the  course  of  two  or  three  seasons,  such  a  roof  will 
have  caught  a  supply  of  wind-sown  seeds,  and  support  a  plentiful  crop 
of  grass  and  weeds,  which  is  no  disadvantage.  This  novel  result  is  in- 
terfered with  somewhat,  however,  b}r  the  habit  of  using  the  roofs  of 
the  houses  (reached  by  a  short  ladder)  as  a  place  for  drying  fruit  and 
sunning  grain,  and  for  a  general  lounging  spot,  whence  a  better  view  of 
what  is  occurring  in  the  world, —  the  going  and  coming  of  the  neigh- 
bors, the  planting  or  gathering  of  the  crop*},  the  approach  of  a  stranger- 
horseman,  or  the  movements  of  the  cattle  on  the  benches, —  can  be 
obtained,  than  a  seat  on  the  ground  affords.  As  the  train  dashes  by,  the 
passenger  notices  two  or  three  women  and  children  standing  on  each 
housetop,  shading  their  eyes  with  their  brown  hands,  and  making  an  un- 
conscious pose  irresistibly  alluring  to  an  artist. 

On  a  line  with  the  front  of  the  house  a  wall  will  probably  extend  a 
little  distance  in  each  direction,  and  then  backward,  enclosing  a  garden 
and  diminutive  orchard.  Everything  is  square.  The  idea  of  a  curve 
seems  rarely  to  enter  the  Spanish-Indian  mind.  For  graphic  effect,  this 
is  highly  gratifying,  since  the  bends  in  the  river,  the  rounded  outlines  of 
the  mountains,  the  undulations  of  foliage,  are  all  in  curves,  to  which  the 


AMONG  STRANGE  PEOPLE.  97 

angular  lines  of  the  buildings  present  a  most  pleasing  contrast.  Now 
and  then  you  will  see  a  better  house — one  whitewashed  outside,  and 
having  a  balcony  running  around  the  second  story.  The  outbuildings, 
in  any  case,  are  only  a  few  mud  huts,  used  for  storage,  and  some  rough 
pens  where  the  animals  are  kept.  Anything  like  the  barns  of  an  East- 
ern farmer  is  unknown. 

The  isolated  dwelling,  however,  is  largely  a  modern  innovation. 
The  general  plan  is  to  live  in  compact,  block-like  villages,  surrounded 
by  a  wall,  or  what  amounts  to  that.  This  results  partly  from  the  need 
in  early  days  of  united  protection  against  the  Indians,  but  chiefly  from 
following  the  traditional  custom  of  their  red  ancestors;  for  the  New 
Mexican  of  to-day  is  a  half-breed,  or  a  mongrel  of  some  degree  between 
the  Spaniard  who  "came  over  with  the  conqueror"  and  the  Indian  of 
whatever  tribe  happened  to  be  accessible.  Remote  from  civilized  influ- 
ences, the  common  people  have  tended  always  toward  barbarous  ways, 
and  are  more  Indian  than  Spanish,  albeit  the  dialect  they  speak  is  not 
so  far  removed  from  the  Castilian  as  one  would  expect.  There  are  local 
differences  and  idioms,  of  course,  which  are  at  once  noticeable;  but  the 
usual  tongue  is  not  very  bad  Spanish. 

Though  Mexican  hamlets  and  farms  are  scattered  everywhere  about 
here,  in  the  fertile  valleys,  there  is  a  class  of  towns  along  this  part  of  the 
valley  of  the  Rio  Grande  which  are  primarily  Indian,  and  situated  upon 
reservations  each  ten  miles  square,  secured  to  them  by  the  government. 
Each  of  these  present  villages,  now  commonly  known  by  a  Spanish 
name,  was  the  site  of  an  ancient  native  pueblo,  and  the  fields  which 
were  deeded  to  them  by  the  United  States  are  those  their  fathers  culti- 
vated before  the  white  men  appeared  at  all.  Some,  however,  yet  re- 
tain their  Indian  names,  as  Taos,  Picuris,  Pecos,  Pojuaque,  Acoma  and 
Tesiique.  San  Juan,  Santa  Cruz,  Santa  Clara,  San  lldefonso,  and  others 
have  been  given  new  names  by  the  conquerors  and  priests.  South  and 
west  of  Santa  Fe  lie  many  other  pueblos,  some  of  them  very  populous, 
as  Jemez,  Zia,  Santo  Domingo,  and  San  Felipe.  In  all  of  them  sub- 
stantially the  same  sort  of  life  is  found,  and  as  it  is  impossible  for  me  to 
cover  the  wide  territory  they  embrace,  the  reader  must  be  content  with 
the  type  of  the  whole  to  be  seen  here  at  Pueblo  San  Juan.  It  is  a 
phase  of  humanity  and  conduct  rapidly  passing  away — melting  under 
the  steady  sun  of  modern  progress;  and  the  traveler  who  does  not  take 
an  early  opportunity  to  study  it  will  miss  not  only  that  which  is  ex- 
tremely interesting  and  suggestive,  but  what  in  a  few  years  will  become 
a  matter  of  history  and  romantic  tradition. 

Here  at  Chamita  the  river  is  divided  by  a  large,  flat  island  into  two 
branches,  each  perhaps  a  hundred  yards  in  width.  Over  the  first  one, 
at  the  time  of  our  visit,  stood  a  good  bridge,  built  by  the  railway  com- 
pany; a  second  bridge  had  spanned  the  other  branch  until  the  high 
water  carried  it  away.  Formerly  there  had  been  a  ferry,  but  the  boat 
s 


THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 


was  out  of  order,  and  nobody 
cared  to  repair  it,  for  could 
not  the  stream  be  forded  ? 

In  the  cool  of  the  evening 
the  whole  party  went  down 
to  the  river  bank,  trusting  to 
good  fortune  for  transporta- 
tion. Thus  challenged,  good 
fortune  stood  by  us  in  the 
person  of  a  citizen  and  his 
broncho.  Chartering  the  lat- 
ter, the  Artist,  his  sketch- 
ing haversack  slung  over  his 
shoulder,  mounted,  and  then 
the  Madame  was  invited  to 
ascend,  the  pillion  being  a 
shawl  thrown  over  the  horse's 
haunches.  When  there  she 
declared  she  could  not  stay — 
would  certainly  slip  off  the 
Gothic  back  of  the  beast  the 
instant  he  moved. 

"  Then  take  it  Anna  Dick- 
inson fashion,"  remarked  her 
unfeeling  spouse;  whereupon  there  was  a  frantic  lurch,  a  twinkle  of 
crimson  suspected  to  be  hosiery,  and  a  cheery  "All  right!"  to  let  us 
know  she  was  ready  to  brave  the  passage.  The  landing  was  safe,  and 
then  the  patient  horse  returned  and  repeated  the  fording  until  we  all 
were  across. 

But  our  peace  of  mind,  or  our  amour  propre — which  is  much  the 
same  thing — was  disturbed  by  a  suspicion  that  we  were  being  laughed 
at,  for  a  party  of  Mexican  women  from  Chamita  came  down  to  the 
brink  while  we  were  there,  and,  chattering  merrily  over  our  slow  and 
undoubtedly  ludicrous  progress,  unconcernedly  pulled  off  their  shoes 
and  stockings,  gathered  their  skirts  in  a  bunch  about  their  waists,  and 
gaily  waded  through  as  though  in  contempt  of  our  fear  of  water  and 
the  conventionalities. 

The  large  island  was  gravelly  and  liable  to  be  inundated,  so  that  it 
was  given  over  to  the  pasturage  of  sheep,  goats,  cattle,  horses  and  don- 
keys. On  the  eastern  bank  we  found  ourselves  at  once  in  the  midst  of 
grain  fields  and  garden  plats.  Tall  Indian  corn  alternated  with  short 
wheat,  hay  and  alfalfa,  or  patches  of  potatoes,  melons  and  vegetables. 
Fences  were  few,  but  the  road  was  defined  by  a  line  of  upright  brush, 
bound  into  cohesion  by  withes  of  bark,  so  that  it  resembled  a  thoroughly 
dead  hedge.  Here  and  there  stood  a.  rasa  chiqm'ta,  but  the  main  town 


A  PATRIARCH. 


PASSING  INTO  TRADITION. 


99 


was  on  the  bluff  marking  the  old  bank  of  the  river,  half  a  mile  from  its 
present  current. 

Pueblo  in  Spanish  simply  means  "a  village."  When  the  first  ex- 
plorers, Cabe^a  de  Vaca,  Coronado  and  the  early  lieutenants  and  friars 
whom  Cortez  sent  northward,  in  search  more  of  gold  than  geography, 
penetrated  what  is  now  New  Mexico  and  Arizona,  they  everywhere 
found  Indians  more  or  less  nomadic,  but  the  larger  part  of  the  natives 
belonging  to  a  different  class,  and  living  in  settled  communities  of  per- 
manent houses.  To  these  the  Spaniards  naturally  gave  the  name  of 
"  village,"  or  "  pueblo"  Indians,  which,  by  a  common  process  of  lingual 
change,  has  become  shortened  into  Pueblos,  though  Puebloans  is  a  far 
better  word.  Their  own  tribal  names  have  disappeared  except  in  a  few 
cases,  such  as  the  Zufiis  and  the  Moquis,  and  the  Spanish  word  covers 
all  Village  Indians  distinguished  from  the  roving  Apaches,  Mojaves  and 
Utes,  that  surround  them  and  centuries  ago  wrested  from  them  much 
of  their  former  territory.  At  present  there  are  in  all  New  Mexico  but 
nineteen  towns  of  the  Village  Indians,  whose  aggregate  population  in 
1880  was  only  10,469,  as  follows  : 

Taos 391 

San  Juan 408 

Santa  Clara 212 

San  Ildefonso 139 

Picuris 1,H5 

Nambe' 66 

Pojuaque 26 

Tesuque 99 

Sochiti  271 

San  Domingo 1,123 

San  Felipe 613 

Jemez 401 

Silla  (or  Zia) 58 

Santa  Ana 489 

Laguna 968 

Isoleta 1,081 

Sandia 345 

Zufii  2,082 

Acoma 582 

Ascending  the  high  bank 
along  a  road  greatly  gullied 
by  the  rains,  we  found  our- 
selves in  a  large  group  of 
houses,  each  of  which  was 
joined  to  its  neighbor  as  con- 
tinuously as  in  a  city  block,  MAID  AND  MATRON> 
but  only  one  story  high  ;  or 

if  there  was  a  second  story,  it  did  not  come  out  flush  with  the  front 
wall,  but  was  ten  or  fifteen  feet  back,  the  roof  of  the  lower  story  serving 
as  a  portico  to  the  upper  floor,  which  was  reached  by  an  outside  ladder. 


100  THE  GRE8T  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

These  dwellings  were  built  of  mud  bricks,  called  adobes,  and  in 
many  cases  the  floors  were  lower  than  the  level  of  the  street— a  matter  of 
small  concern,  since  the  door-sill  was  so  high  as  to  shut  out  any  water 
which  might  be  running  outside.  Mixing  in  a  little  broken  straw,  rough 
blocks  about  twice  the  size  of  ordinary  bricks  are  moulded,  dried  some- 
what in  the  sun,  and  laid  up  in  the  form  of  a  wall.  Space  is  left  for  a  door 
and  some  small  holes  for  windows,  quite  high  up.  That  is  about  all  there 
seems  to  be  of  it,  yet  the  inexpert  find  it  not  so  easy  to  build  a  "  doby  " 
as  they  supposed.  The  consistency  of  the  clay  must  be  right,  and  I  am 
told  the  wall  must  be  laid  so  that  the  blocks  somewhat  brace  each  other 
by  beveled  sides,  or  else  the  great  weight  which  rests  on  the  top,  oth- 
erwise wholly  unsupported,  will  cause  the  middle  of  the  wall  to  bulge. 
That  these  ancient  houses  stand  so  plumb  and  uncracked  shows  how 
proficient  the  Indians  are  at  this  peculiar  architecture;  and  ought  they 
not  to  be,  for  did  not  they  invent  it? 

All  the  buildings  are  smoothly  plastered  outside  and  in.  This  is 
done  some  weeks  after  they  are  built,  and  after  they  have  thoroughly 
dried.  To  obtain  the  necessary  material  for  the  outer  "stucco"  coat, 
the  floor  of  the  interior  of  the  unfinished  house  is  dug  up  and  mixed 
with  water  until  it  becomes  a  soft  paste.  Then  it  is  taken  by  the  hand- 
ful, dashed  against  the  unchinked  adobes,  and  spread  smoothly  with 
the  palms,  just  as  a  town  mason  would  use  a  trowel.  The  women  do  all 
this,  and  I  remember  surprising  three  damsels,  as  pretty  as  the  New 
Mexican  peasantry  have  to  show,  down  on  their  knees  and  up  to  their 
elbows  in  seal-brown  mud,  plastering  the  new  house,  while  father  and 
mother  were  busy  in  the  fields. 

Most  of  the  Indian  dwellings, — and  they  are  as  good  as  the  major- 
ity of  the  abodes  of  the  Mexican  ranchmen,  —  have  two  rooms,  and 
sometimes  three,  but  these  are  generally  so  dark  that  the  eye  must 
accustom  itself  to  the  gloom  before  their  contents  can  well  be  dis- 
cerned. This  arises  from  the  scarcity  and  diminutive  size  of  the  win- 
dows Here  in  San  Juan,  indeed,  I  saw  roughly  sashed  windows  in 
many  houses,  or  else  a  single  pane  of  glass  set  in;  but  often  only  a 
grating  is  used  to  guard  the  aperture,  or  else  holes  in  the  walls  are  left 
so  small  that  no  enemy  could  crawl  through.  You  can  imagine  th3 
darkness  inside,  therefore,  even  on  a  bright  day.  Originally  the  pueblo 
was  common  property,  and  both  men  and  women  assisted  in  building 
it,  but  new  ideas  of  individual  possessions  are  invading  the  old  no- 
tions. It  was  the  former  custom,  too,  to  mix  ashes  with  earth  and 
charcoal  into  a  substitute  for  mortar;  yet,  as  we  shall  see  later,  the  very 
ancient,  ruined  buildings  of  the  ancestors  of  these  Puebloans  show  an 
architecture  in  stone,  with  a  cement  now  as  hard,. or  even  more  tenacious, 
than  the  blocks  it  binds  together.  "  They  take  great  pride,"  says  an  old 
book  "in  their,  to  them,  magnificent  structures,  averring  that  as  fort- 
resses they  have  ever  proved  impregnable.  To  wall  out  black  barbarism 


299790 

IN  PUEBLO  SAW  JUAN.  101 

was  what  the  Pueblos  wanted ;  under  these  conditions  time  was  giving 
them  civilization  " 

Entering  one  of  the  houses  here  in  San  Juan,  we  shall  find  the 
floor  is  only  of  earth,  but  that  many  skins  are  spread  about.  In  one 
corner,  or  else  beside  the  entrance  door,  will  be  one  of  the  queer  little 
round-topped  fireplaces  prevalent  all  over  Spanish  America;  but  if  in 
the  latter  place,  a  low  wall  or  wing  of  masonry  runs  out  into  the  room, 
protecting  the  fire  from  contrary  drafts.  The  cooking  in  summer  is 
done  out  of  doors  almost  wholly;  but  in  cold  weather,  when  utilizing 
these  fireplaces,  they  use  the  iron  pots  and  skillets  which  civilization  has 
brought  them,  eking  out  with  variously  shaped  earthen  utensils  of  their 
own  make,  and  baskets  obtained  from  Apache  and  Navajo  visitors. 

You  must  expect  to  see  very  little  furniture  in  an  Indian's  house, 
though  occasionally  some  familiar  objects  are  found.  The  beds  are 
made  on  the  floor,  and  consist  entirely  of  skins  and  blankets.  The  walls 
are  often  whitewashed,  and  though  they  never  heard  of  Eastlake,  they 
always  make  a  dado  of  clay  water.  The  soft  brown  tint  contrasts  well 
with  the  white  frieze,  and  would  be  attractive  in  itself;  but  the  clay  here 
is  full  of  specks  of  mica,  which  dust  the  walls  with  gleaming  points  not 
to  be  spurned  in  mural  decoration. 

The  Indians  admire  pictures,  but  are  not  scrupulous  as  to  artistic 
superiority.  In  nearly  every  house  you  will  find  a  board  a  few  inches 
square,  upon  which  is  painted  a  religious  subject,  usually  in  red  and 
yellow,  of  some  saint,  or  a  group  of  them.  Such  pictures,  and  others 
whenever  they  can  get  them,  are  highly  valued  and  will  be  adorned  with 
peacock  feathers  and  bright  berries. 

They  love  gay  colors  and  choose  them  in  their  dress,  which  is  a  sin- 
gular mixture  of  Indian,  Mexican  and  American.  There  go  a  man  and 
woman  ahead  of  us  who  are  fair  types.  Neither  are  of  large  size,  and 
though  an  oddity  of  gait  comes  from  their  habit  of  walking  with  their 
toes  straight  before  them,  both  are  of  erect  carriage.  The  man  is 
dressed  in  brown  flannel  shirt,  hanging  blouse-like  about  him,  tightly 
fitted  leggings  of  buckskin,  with  a  broad  seam-flap  in  place  of  fringe  on 
the  outside  of  each  leg,  and  moccasins.  Over  his  right  shoulder  and  un- 
der his  left  arm  is  loosely  draped  a  striped  blanket  made  by  the  Navajo 
or  Apache  Indians  of  the  interior,  and  diligently  repaired  in  its  worn 
places.  His  head  is  bare,  under  the  blaze  of  the  hot  sun,  save  for  a 
wreath  of  cottonwood  leaves.  Under  this  "bay  crown"  his  smoothly- 
brushed  and  jet  black  hair,  accurately  parted  in  the  middle  along  a  line 
of  red  or  yellow  ochre,  is  plaited  on  either  side  into  two  long  braids,  in- 
tertwined and  lengthened  out  with  strips  of  red  flannel  and  tufts  of  ot- 
ter-skin. 

The  woman  wears  a  long,  loose  tunic  of  coarse  cloth,  almost  de- 
void of  sleeves,  and  belted  at  the  waist ;  but  sometimes  this  is  of  buck- 
skin. Her  extremities  are  not  clad  in  leggings,  but  encased  in  short, 


102 


THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 


shapeless  boots  having  a  moccasin  foot,  and  stiff  legs,  which  reach 
nearly  to  her  knees,  and  often  afford  the  only  recognizable  distinction 
between  a  male  or  a  female,  who,  to  a  stranger's  eye,  are  confusingly 
alike.  She  wears  thrown  over  her  head  a  shawl-like  expanse  of  common 
pink-printed  calico ;  but  if  you  could  see  her  hair  you  would  discover 


OLD  CHURCH  OF  SAN  JUAN. 

that  none  of  the  attention  had  been  bestowed  upon  it  which  her  hus- 
band's has  received ;  it  has  been  cut  short,  particularly  across  the  fore- 
head, and  is  likely  to  be  tangled  and  dirt}r.  In  this  respect  these  Rio 
Grande  Indians  have  fallen  from  grace  into  the  slovenliness  of  their 
nomadic  neighbors.  The  maidens  of  the  purer  Moqui  pueblos,  for 
example,  take  great  care  of  their  raven  locks.  Parting  the  hair  at  the 
back  of  the  head,  they  roll  it  around  hoops,  when  it  is  fastened  in  two 
high  bunches,  one  on  each  side,  a  single  feather  being  sometimes  placed 
in  the  center.  The  Moqui  wives  gather  it  into  two  tight  knots  at  the 
side,  or  one  at  the  back  of  the  head;  and  the  men  cut  their  hair  in  front 
of  the  ears  and  in  a  line  with  the  eyebrows,  while  at  the  back  it  is  plaited 
or  gathered  into  a  single  bunch  and  tied  with  a  band. 

This  woman  is  going  to  one  of  the  public  wells  to  draw  water,  and 
presently  is  joined  by  a  young  Hebe,  with  bare,  shapely  ankles  and 
rotund  bust,  whose  laughing  talk  is  like  the  gurgling  chatter  of  the 
blackbirds  in  the  rushes.  They  each  carry  classically  shaped  and  gaily 
ornamented  jars  of  earthenware,  made  by  themselves,  and  which  they 
will  tell  you  are  tindjas.  Some  of  the  wells  are  so  shallow  that  an  in- 
clined passage-way  has  been  cut  down  to  the  water  from  the  surface; 
from  others  the  liquid  must  be  drawn  in  buckets.  Having  filled  their 
vessels,  each  woman  lays  a  little  pad  on  her  head,  skillfully  poises  the 


SEMBLANCES  AND   CERAMICS.  103 

heavy  tinaja  upon  it,  and  marches  off,  as  erect,  elastic  of  tread  and 
graceful  in  mien  as  any  Ganymede  who  ever  handed  about  the  nectar  on 
Olympus.  You  can  see  the  trimmed  and  painted  gourd-dipper  floating 
about  in  the  neck  of  the  jar,  and  thus  know  that  the  water  is  level  with 
the  top ;  yet  up  hill  and  down,  along  the  dusty  roadway,  through  the 
half-concealing  corn,  and  under  the  low  doorway  go  the  dusky  carriers, 
and  not  a  drop  is  lost. 

A  short  distance  back  we  had  met  a  superannuated  governor,  or 
chief,  called  in  Spanish  Attencio.  His  long,  straight  hair,  of  ashy  hue, 
and  deeply  furrowed  features,  gave  a  most  venerable  appearance  to  his 
attenuated  but  still  upright  form.  His  garments  evinced  more  design, 
were  better  fitting,  and  somewhat  fantastically  decorated ;  while  from 
his  neck  was  suspended  a  drum,  a  tribute  apparently  to  growing  in- 
firmities which  had  not  quite  obscured  the  dream  of  place  and  circum- 
stance. We  halted  in  curiosity  while  the  Photographer,  by  specious 
argument  and  a  gentle  subsidizing  process,  overcame  the  half-scruples 
of  the  patriarch,  and  transferred  his  semblance  to  a  "dry  plate,"  an 
operation  he  repeated  a  little  later  with  the  maid  and  matron  whom  we 
had  seen  at  the  well,  though  in  their  case  with  more  difficulty  and  over- 
coming of  native  shyness.  The  results  of  this  enterprise  are  commended 
to  the  reader. 

The  pueblo  pottery  is  of  all  sizes  and  shapes, — jars,  pitchers,  can- 
teens, bowls,  platters,  and  images  of  men  and  animals,  made  as  play- 
things for  their  children,  or  merely  for  amusement,  and  the  latter  often 
called  their  "  gods  "  by  ignorant  tourists. 

It  is  evident  everywhere  that  originally  much  finer  and  more  sym- 
metrical pottery  was  made  by  all  these  Village  Indians  than  now.  They 
seem  to  have  understood  the  art  of  mixing  a  finer  paste,  and  they 
worked  with  more  careful  hands.  The  resemblance  of  this  antique 
ware  to  that  of  Egypt  and  Cyprus,  has  been  noted  in  its  structure,  and 
in  the  "scrolls,  straight  lines  and  walls  of  Troy,"  with  which  it  is 
embellished.  Birds,  too,  were  painted  upon  some  of  the  oldest  ware 
extant,  recalling  certain  Chinese  symbols,  while  ' '  in  the  animal  handles 
and  in  a  design  known  as  the  old  Japanese  seal,"  the  early  ware  of  Japan 
is  simulated.  The  ancient  and  (in  ruins)  most  widely  distributed  form 
of  pottery  known  is  the  "corrugated,"  fragments  of  which  are  also 
found  in  the  mounds  of  the  Ohio  and  Mississippi  valleys  and  on  the 
Pacific  slope.  This  variety  was  made  by  winding  around  and  above 
one  another  slender  strings  or  ropes  of  red  clay,  expanding  and  con- 
tracting the  coil  to  suit  the  varying  diameters  of  the  vessel.  Pressure 
of  the  fingers  alone,  or  aided  only  by  a  smooth  stone,  then  compressed 
the  coils  into  compactness  and  on  the  inside  into  some  smoothness. 
There  was  also  a  kind  of  ware  in  use  in  prehistoric  times  which  bore  a 
red  or  black  glaze  beyond  anything  seen  in  later  manufacture ;  but  this 
fine  finish  is  thought  to  have  been  accidental. 


104  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

At  San  Juan,  as  in  all  other  pueblos,  the  old  adobe  church,  with  its 
absurdly  barbaric  furniture  and  uncouth  appearance,  is  a  center  of  inter- 
est. Climbing  the  rickety  ladder  to  its  little  gallery,  and  thence  ascend- 
ing to  the  roof,  one  gets  the  best  idea  of  how  valuable  a  garden  spot 
this  district  is.  As  far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  up  and  down  the  river, 
stretch  farms  and  orchards  and  plazitas.  I  suppose  that  from  the 
mouth  of  the  canon  down  to  the  village  of  San  Ildefonso,  a  distance  of 
about  thirty  miles,  the  river-bottom  is  almost  continuously  cultivated, 
the  chief  crops  being  wheat  and  Indian  corn,  the  latter  notable  for  its 
variegated  and  bright  colors,  and  for  which  the  people  here  keep  the 
original  name,  maiz;  but  every  sort  of  grain  and  vegetable  is  also  pro- 
duced in  abundance. 

The  population  sustained  consists  largely  of  Indians,  in  some  locali- 
ties, as  here  at  San  Juan,  almost  entirely  so;  and  they  are  quite  as  indus- 
trious and  skillful  in  their  farming  as  the  Mexicans.  In  most  of  the 
villages  the  tillage  of  the  reservation  is  wholly  in  common,  but  here  the 
Indians  many  years  ago  divided  up  their  farming  lands  into  individual 
properties,  not  all  equally  either,  for  it  was  apportioned  to  each  man  in 
proportion  to  his  needs,  abilities  and  desire.  It  is  said  that  there  has 
been  little  change  in  the  ownership  of  this  property,  the  same  fields  de- 
scending from  father  to  son,  generation  after  generation.  This  being 
the  case,  it  is  not  strange  to  learn  the  second  fact,  that  there  is  small 
variation  in  the  fortunes  of  the  different  families,  and  that  there  is 
slight  disposition  on  the  part  of  any  to  become  rich  while  others  grow 
poor.  All  are  self-supporting,  and  proud  of  the  fact  that  no  aid  is 
asked  or  received  from  the  government. 

Nothing  reminds  the  traveler  more  of  the  Holy  Land  than  to  wit- 
ness these  people  threshing  their  grain,  which  happens,  of  course,  in 
August,  since  they  do  not  stack  the  grain  in  the  straw  at  all.  The 
threshing-floors  are  circular  spaces  of  high  level  ground  in  the  outskirts 
of  the  pueblo,  around  which  poles  ten  or  twenty  feet  high  are  set, 
though  there  is  no  need  of  more  than  mere  posts.  When  the  threshing 
is  to  be  done,  a  rawhide  rope  or  two  is  stretched  about  these  posts  to 
form  a  fence,  and  often  upon  this  are  hung  many  blankets,  the  gay 
colors  and  striped  ornamentation  of  which  make  an  exceedingly  pic- 
turesque scene.  Sometimes  in  place  of  the  ropes  a  cordon  of  bare-legged 
small  boys  and  girls,  to  whom  the  duty  is  great  sport,  does  service  as  a 
girdle.  The  diameter  of  such  a  prepared  space,  hardened  by  service 
for  half  a  century  to  the  consistency  of  brick,  is  sixty  or  a  hundred  feet. 
In  the  middle  of  it  are  heaped  the  sheaves  of  the  three  or  four  families 
who  are  accustomed  to  join  in  this  work  until  a  suitable  quantity  has 
been  obtained,  and  then  the  fun  begins. 

Through  an  opening  in  the  extemporized  fence  is  driven  a  flock  of 
sheep  and  goats,  or  else  a  small  herd  of  horses.  They  at  once  fall  to 
eating  the  fresh  grain,  but  are  quickly  beaten  off  and  started  into  a  run 


THE  REALM  OF  CONTENT.  105 

around  the  enclosure,  trampling  down  the  edges  of  the  stack,  and  all 
the  time  getting  more  and  more  of  it  under  their  beating  hoofs.  Behind 
them  race  two  or  three  athletic,  bare  headed  and  scantily-dressed  youths, 
cracking  long  whips,  hustling  the  laggards,  and  nimbly  keeping  out  of 
the  way  of  the  kicking,  crowding  and  bewildered  animals.  This  is 
quite  as  hard  work  as  any  of  the  horses  or  goats  do,  and  is  accompa- 
nied by  continual  halloos  and  trilling  cries,  which  almost  make  a  song 
when  heard  at  a  little  distance.  Now  and  then  a  young  horse  will  make 
a  leap  at  the  rope,  and  snap  the  rawhide  lariat,  or  dodge  under  it;  or  a 
venturesome  goat  will  elude  his  guard  and  escape ;  but  there  are  excited 
youngsters  enough  to  speedily  give  chase  and  bring  him  back;  and  from 
time  to  time  the  panting  drivers  are  changed,  the  animals  given  a  rest, 
and  the  grain  heaped  into  a  new  pile  in  the  center.  It  is  a  wonderfully 
lively  and  gay  picture,  which  will  never  be  forgotten,  and  entirely 
unlike  anything  else  to  be  seen  in  the  United  States.  Toward  evening, 
when  the  incessant  tramping  has  threshed  all  the  grains  out  of  their 
husks,  comes  the  wiunowing.  This  is  quite  as  primitive  and  idyllic  as 
its  forerunner.  Having  lifted  away  the  bulk  of  the  straw,  several  men 
and  women  take  long-handled,  flat-bladed  wooden  shovels,  and  toss  up 
the  grain  which  lies  thick  on  the  hard  clay  floor,  thus  allowing  the  wind 
to  blow  away  the  chaff.  There  is  generally  a  breeze  at  sunset  every  day, 
and  the  largest  part  of  the  chaff  is  gotten  rid  of  by  the  shoveling ;  but  to 
perfect  the  process,  the  women  take  half  a  bushel  at  once  of  the  grain, 
and  re-winnow  it,  by  tossing  it  a  second  time  in  and  out  of  one  of  the 
large  Navajo  wicker-baskets,  of  which  every  family  owns  a  number.  The 
rough,  wasteful  threshing,  and  the  cleansing,  only  partial  at  best,  having 
thus  been  accomplished,  the  grain  is  divided  out  to  its  owners,  and  by 
them  packed  away  in  huge  jars  of  coarse  earthenware,  called  ollas,  some 
of  which  will  hold  several  bushels.  These  vessels  keep  it  dry  and  safe 
from  rats,  so  long  as  the  covers  are  tight.  All  these  processes  are  fol- 
lowed not  only  by  the  Indians,  but  by  all  Mexican  farmers  throughout 
the  Spanish  southwest. 

We  were  never  weary  of  wandering  about  these  Indian  towns,  and 
watching  the  people  at  their  work  and  sunny-tempered  play.  They 
are  the  happiest  men  and  women  on  the  continent.  Well  sheltered, 
well  fed,  well  companioned,  peaceful,  guileless, — what  else  do  they 
wish?  Not  theirs  to  know  carking  care,  and  the  fluctuating  markets 
which  imperil  hard-earned  gains;  nor  to  suffer  the  hurt  unsatisfied 
ambition  feels,  or  know  the  terrors  of  a  crime-haunted  or  doubt-stricken 
conscience.  The  broad,  bright  sunshine  of  their  latitude  suffuses  their 
whole  lives  and  dispositions,  turning  their  rock-bounded  lowlands  into 
a  Vale  of  Tempe. 


IX 

SANTA  FE  AND  THE  SACRED  VALLEY. 


Ages  are  made  up 

Of  such  small  parts  as  these,  and  men  look  back, 
Worn  and  bewilder' d,  wond'ring  how  it  is. 

—JOANNA  BAILLIE. 

HAVE  referred  to  Espanola  as  the  southern  terminus 
of  the  railway.  From  this  point,  however,  another 
company  is  actively  engaged  in  constructing  a  line  to 
Santa  Fe,  a  distance  of  thirty-four  miles  by  the  survey, 
and  its  prospective  early  completion  will  afford  a  direct 
and  desirable  connection  with  the  ancient  capital,  At 
present  the  communication  is  by  means  of  stages,  which  run  in  con- 
junction with  the  trains,  and,  not  being  restricted  in  the  matter  of 
grades,  accomplish  the  trip  in  about  twenty-five  miles.  The  journey  is 
interesting,  and  is  made  comfortably. 

Santa  Fe  claims  the  distinction  of  being  the  oldest  town  in  the 
United  States,  a  claim  that  is  readily  admitted  when  we  consider  that  it 
was  a  populous  Indian  pueblo  when  the  first  Spaniards  crossed  the  terri- 
tory now  known  as  New  Mexico,  less  than  forty  years  after  the  dis- 
covery of  the  western  continent  by  Columbus.  The  earliest  European 
who  penetrated  this  region  was  Alvar  Nunez  Cabeca  de  Vaca,  a  Spanish 
navigator,  whose  vessel  was  wrecked  on  the  coast  of  Texas  in  1528,  and 
who,  with  three  of  his  crew,  wandered  for  six  years  through  the  plains 
and  mountains,  until  finally  he  joined  his  countrymen  under  Cortez  in 
Mexico.  His  report  of  the  section  through  which  he  passed  led  to  an 
expedition,  in  1539,  by  Marco  de  Nica,  a  Franciscan  friar,  who  was 
frightened  away  by  the  Indians,  and  returned  to  Mexico  with  a  mar- 
velous account  of  the  extent,  population  and  wealth  of  the  country, 
the  magnificence  of  its  cities,  and  the  ferocity  of  its  people.  In  1540 
the  famous  expedition  of  Vasquez  de  Coronado  passed  through  the 
pueblo  where  Santa  Fe  now  stands,  crossed  the  range,  and  traversed 
the  plains  until  he  came  to  the  Missouri  river,  at  a  point  probably 
near  the  present  site  of  Atchison  or  Leaven  worth.  In  1581,  Friar 
Augustin  Ruyz,  with  one  companion,  reached  a  village  called  Poala, 
a  few  miles  north  of  Albuquerque,  where  they  were  killed  by  the 
Indians.  Antonio  de  Espejo  came  with  an  expedition,  in  1582,  to  seek 
Ruyz,  and  discovered  Zuni,  Acoma  and  other  pueblos.  In  1595  Juan 
de  Onate  founded  a  colony  near  the  junction  of  the  Rio  Chama  with 

106 


108  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

the  Rio  Grande,  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  Espanola.  It  was  about 
this  date  that  a  Spanish  settlement  was  formed  in  Santa  Fe,  and  the 
church  of  San  Miguel  erected.  In  1680  there  was  a  great  uprising  of 
the  natives,  who  entirely  drove  out  the  Spaniards,  and  obliterated  as 
far  as  possible  alt  evidences  of  their  occupation,  dismantling,  among 
other  buildings,  the  old  church.  Twelve  3rears  later  they  were  recon- 
quered by  Diego  de  Bargas.  From  that  time  to  the  present  Santa  Fe 
has  had  an  eventful  career.  The  Mexicans,  in  1821,  declared  their 
independence  of  Spanish  rule,  and  after  that  there  were  numerous 
insurrections,  until  the  occupation  of  the  territory  by  the  United 
States,  in  1846.  Then  came  the  War  of  the  Rebellion,  in  1861-65,  in 
the  course  of  which  Santa  Fe  was  captured  by  the  confederates,  and 
recaptured  by  the  Union  forces. 

During  all  these  years  Santa  Fe  has  changed  its  character  but  little, 
and  is  to-day,  in  general  appearance,  very  much  the  same  old  Mexican 
town  that  it  has  been  for  nearly  three  hundred  years.  There  is  the 
same  broad  plaza,  with  the  same  adobe  buildings  nearly  all  the  way 
around  it;  the  same  one-story  houses,  surrounding  the  same  plazitas; 
the  same  suburban  fields  and  gardens;  and  the  same  swarthy,  dark-eyed 
population,  still  speaking  the  musical  Spanish  tongue.  Wood  is  still 
brought  into  town  on  the  backs  of  burros,  and  by  this  conveyance  can 
be  left  inside  the  dwellings.  Among  the  other  objects  of  attraction  to 
the  stranger,  are  the  governor's  palace;  the  ruins  of  old  Fort  Marcy,  on 
a  bluif ,  from  which  is  had  a  fine  view  of  the  city ;  and  the  extensive 
and  beautiful  garden  of  Bishop  Lamy.  The  famous  chapel  of  San 
Miguel,  the  oldest  in  America,  still  rears  the  same  mud  walls  that 
have  stood  for  three  centuries,  and  internally  is  well  preserved  and  in 
presentable  shape.  It  has  no  exterior  beauty  and  no  interior  magnifi- 
cence, its  only  interest  being  in  its  age  and  the  sacred  uses  for  which 
it  has  been  kept  up  during  almost  the  entire  period  of  American  civil- 
ization. On  a  great  beam,  as  plain  as  if  made  but  yesterday,  is  the 
Spanish  inscription,  traced  there  one  hundred  and  seventy-four  years 
ago,  to  the  effect  that  "The  Marquis  de  la  Penuela  erected  this  building, 
the  Royal  Ensign  Don  Augustin  Flores  Vergara,  his  servant,  A.D.  1710." 
Original  documents  show  that  this  refers  to  its  restoration  after  the 
wood-work  was  burned  by  the  rebel  Indians.  A  dark  picture  of  the 
Annunciation,  on  one  side  of  the  altar,  bears  on  its  back  a  notation, 
seemingly  dated  A.D.  1287,  leading  to  the  belief  that  it  is  one  of  the 
oldest  oil  paintings  in  the  world.  By  the  side  of  the  church  is  a  two- 
story  adobe  house,  which  tradition  says  was  in  existence  when  Coronado 
marched  through  the  town.  The  neighborhood  of  Santa  Fe  is  rich  in 
precious  stones,  including  turquoise,  bloodstone,  onyx,  agate,  garnet 
and  opal.  The  manufacture  of  Mexican  filigree  jewelry,  largely  carried 
on  here,  will  be  found  interesting.  The  work  is  done  by  natives,  to 
whom  the  trade  has  been  handed  down  by  their  ancestors,  who  derived 


A  JOURNEY  TO   TAGS.  109 

it  from  the  Italians.  The  primitive  Spanish  records  of  the  aborigines  of 
all  tropical  America  say  that  there  were  "no  better  goldsmiths  in  the 
world  ; "  so  that  the  Indian  blood  mixed  in  the  veins  of  most  of  the 
modern  artisans  may  have  increased  their  skill. 

But  even  quaint  old  Santa  Fe  is  catching  the  spirit  of  the  age,  and 
now  boasts  a  colony  of  northern  residents,  cultivated  society,  and  many 
handsome  structures,  among  which  are  a  new  hotel,  a  large  public  hos- 
pital built  of  stone  and  brick,  a  Methodist  church,  Santa  Fe  Academy, 
and  San  Miguel  College.  The  tendency  of  this  innovation  will  be  to 
rapidly  dissipate  the  aroma  of  antiquity  and  sentiment  which  has 
hitherto  attached  to  the  town's  romantic  history. 

On  the  return  northward,  our  cars  were  again  set  out  at  Embudo, 
the  gentlemen  of  the  party  having  determined  not  to  omit  from  this 
itinerary  the  Taos  pueblos,  possibly  the  most  antiquated,  and  certainly 
the  best  preserved  of  all,  and  whose  people  are  still  awaiting  with 
pathetic  patience  the  returning  Montezuma,  who  shall  restore  their  pris- 
tine glory,  and  the  kingdom  that  stretched  from  river  to  sea.  When 
questioned  as  to  her  desires,  the  Madame  did  not  advance  the  staple 
feminine  excuse,  a  council  with  the  dressmaker,  but  boldly  proclaimed 
her  aversion  to  the  thirty-mile  equestrian  trip.  So  we  left  her  behind 
reluctantly,  with  many  injunctions  to  our  chef  de  cuisine  and  still  more 
trustworthy  railway  friends. 

After  no  little  wrangling,  a  sufficient  number  of  spiritless  quadru- 
peds were  procured  from  the  natives,  and  we  turned  our  faces  to  the 
north.  And  right  here  let  me  advise  the  reader  who  may  hereafter  con- 
template this  pilgrimage,  to  address,  in  ample  season,  Mr.  Henry  Dibble, 
Fernandez  de  Taos,  New  Mexico,  who  will  undertake  to  have  a  team  in 
waiting  at  Embudo,  thus  saving  the  traveler  much  time  and  even  more 
bad  Spanish.  The  ride  was  thoroughly  enjoyable,  and  formed  a  fitting 
prelude  to  the  novel  experiences  that  followed.  I  have  said  "ride," 
though  the  statement  is  not  altogether  exact,  since  we  took  pity, — and 
largely  from  necessity, — on  our  miserable  under-sized  and  under- fed 
ponies  and  ourselves,  and  walked  a  full  third  of  the  distance.  Occasion- 
ally we  passed  small  Mexican  villages,  which  seemed  as  peacefully 
asleep  in  the  afternoon  sunshine  as  we  could  ever  have  pictured  them. 
Flocks  of  ugly  yellow-spotted  goats,  attended  by  dusky  urchins  in 
scanty  attire,  browsed  on  the  near  hill-slopes.  Over  the  eaves  of  almost 
every  one  of  the  low  adobe  houses  hung  great  ropes  of  red  peppers, — the 
chili  Colorado  of  the  Mexican, — that  gave  the  one  brilliant  dash  of  color 
to  a  perspective  whose  tones  were  otherwise  the  most  subdued.  Not 
unfrequently,  however,  an  entire  family  would  be  seen  ranged  along  in 
a  row  on  the  shady  side  of  the  house,  the  women  generally  dressed  in 
gay  colors,  solid  red,  blue,  or  green,  and  all  as  silent  as  the  scene  on 
which  they  looked.  But  for  the  dogs,  these  hamlets  might  have  passed 


110  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

for  the  ruins  they  appeared.  The  caretta,  or  great,  clumsy,  two-wheeled 
cart,  and  the  plow  made  of  a  pointed  stick,  were  here  and  there  reposing 
before  the  abodes,  not  seeming  like  implements  of  daily  use,  but  as 
appropriate  details  in  the  worn-out  landscape. 

To  pick  one's  way  through  Taos  valley,  even  by  daylight,  might  be 
a  task;  in  the  darkness,  which  at  length  overtook  us,  success  was  a 
lucky  chance.  The  very  populousness  of  the  locality  was  against  us. 
How  many  times  we  took  the  divergent  road  and  brought  up  against  the 
fence  of  some  ranchero's  threshing-floor;  or  crossed  the  stream  not  at  the 
ford ;  or  engaged  in  a  broil  with  some  awakened  native  who  persisted 
in  misunderstanding  our  gesticulated  inquiries,  may  never  be  related. 
The  houses,  too,  were  a  mystery.  To  find  the  front  door  of  the  rect- 
angular heap  of  mud ;  to  determine  in  what  part  of  its  cavernous  recesses 
the  inmates  might  now  be  residing;  or  to  decide  whether,  after  all,  it  was 
not  the  stable,  taxed  our  ingenuity  and  tempers  through  several  hours 
of  that  memorable  evening.  Finally,  in  the  plaza  of  a  great  communistic 
ranch-house,  that  covered  an  area  half  as  large  as  a  city  block,  we  man- 
aged to  secure  the  services  of  a  muchacho,  who  preceded  us  on  horse- 
back, and  led  us  into  one  of  the  narrow  and  crooked  streets  of  Fernandez 
de  Taos,  where  we  soon  found  the  hostelry  of  "  Pap  "  Dibble. 

Taos  valley  is  widest  near  its  head,  where  the  several  streams  that 
form  the  river  issue  from  the  Culebra  range.  About  the  center  of  the 
fertile  expanse  lies  the  old  Mexican  town  of  Fernandez  de  Taos,  with  a 
present  population  of  1,500.  Two  miles  northeast  of  it,  and  under  the 
shadow  of  Taos  mountain,  stand  the  two  great  buildings  known  as  the 
Pueblo  de  Taos,  and  inhabited  by  about  400  Indians.  Three  miles  south 
of  Fernandez  lies  still  another  Mexican  village,  named  Ranchos  de 
Taos,  in  contrast  with  whose  adobes  the  traveler  finds  a  newly-erected 
flouring  mill.  The  middle  settlement  has  the  greatest  commercial 
importance,  and  is  likewise  possessed  of  considerable  historic  interest. 
Here  was  the  seat  of  the  first  civil  government  of  the  territory  by  the 
United  States,  after  it  had  been  acquired  as  a  result  of  the  Mexican  war 
of  1846.  Here  Bent,  the  first  governor,  was  killed  in  the  revolt  of  the 
following  year,  and  the  ruins  yet  remain  of  the  old  church  on  whose 
solid  mud  walls  the  howitzers  of  the  troops  could  make  no  impression, 
and  from  which  the  band  of  insurgent  Indians  and  Mexicans  were  only 
finally  dislodged  by  means  of  hand-grenades.  The  widow  of  the  mur- 
dered governor  still  lives  in  her  modest  adobe,  and  shows  to  visitors  the 
hole  in  the  wall  made  by  the  fatal  bullet.  Fernandez  de  Taos  was  like- 
wise for  years  the  residence  of  Colonel  Kit  Carson,  and  in  the  walled 
graveyard  at  the  edge  of  town  his  body  is  buried. 

All  this  and  much  more  is  communicated  the  following  morning  by 
the  genial  Dibble,  who  fills  our  idea  of  what  a  host  should  be.  For 
twenty  years  has  he  lived  in  this  quiet  valley,  among  an  alien  people, 
leaving  it  only  once  for  a  trip  to  Santa  Fe,  content  to  preside  over  his 


FESTIVAL  OF  SAN  GERONIMO.  Ill 

curious  aggregation  of  rambling  adobes,  and  make  each  chance  guest 
feel  himself  under  paternal  care. 

But  to  us  the  great  interest  centers  in  the  Indian  carnival  at  the 
pueblo,  which  is  to  occur  on  the  morrow.  On  the  last  day  of  Septem- 
ber of  each  year  the  Taos  Indians  celebrate  the  festival  of  their  patron 
saint,  San  Gerouimo  (the  Spanish  St.  Jerome),  by  ceremonies  alto- 
gether unique,  and  which  few  Americans  have  as  yet  witnessed.  Some 
hours  are  still  at  our  command,  in  which  to  study  the  country  in  its 
every-day  aspect,  and  we  early  start  out  in  the  direction  of  the  pueblo. 
Already  the  roads  converging  toward  the  old  stronghold  show  signs  of 
the  assembling  throng.  Little  bands  of  Indians,  gaily  blanketed  and 
with  uncovered  heads,  who  have  walked  from  pueblos  perhaps  fifty 
miles  away,  driving  before  them  shaggy  burros,  with  many-shaped 
packs;  and  Mexican  fruit- vendors,  their  trains  of  donkeys  laden  with 
well-filled  wicker  baskets,  form  the  vanguard  of  the  unique  procession. 
The  valley  across  which  we  pass  is  all  under  cultivation,  and  the 
ground  is  now  covered  with  the  yellow  stubble,  while  along  the  roadside 
we  come  upon  the  regulation  threshing-places. 

The  Pueblo  de  Taos  consists  of  two  great  mud  buildings  (of  the 
larger  of  which  an  engraving  is  given)  facing  each  other  from  opposite 
banks  of  a  stream,  and  perhaps  two  hundred  yards  apart.  They  rise  to 
a  height  of  about  fifty  feet,  and  seem  to  have  attained  their  present 
size  by  accretions  during  the  ages  since  they  were  founded.  They  are 
of  an  irregular  pyramidal  form,  and  made  up  of  about  five  stories  or 
terraces.  Each  new  story  is  built  a  distance  from  the  edge  of  the  one 
immediately  beneath,  so  that  both  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  building 
diminish  as  the  height  is  increased.  To  enter  the  rooms  we  must  ascend 
one  of  the  many  ladders  that  lean  against  the  wall,  and  then  descend 
another  ladder  through  a  hole  in  the  roof.  Everything  was  quiet  and 
silent  about  this  great  human  wasps'  nest.  Nude  children  tumbled 
on  the  ground  in  the  warm  rays  of  the  sun ;  men  strolled  lazily  hither 
and  thither,  their  bodies  wrapped  in  gaudy  blankets  and  legs  encased  in 
close-fitting  sheepskin  leggings,  while  to  their  hair,  black  as  jet  and 
brought  down  in  a  lock  on  each  side,  hung  great  bunches  of  zephyr  or 
other  gay  material ;  women,  dressed  in  much  the  same  manner,  carried 
on  their  heads  the  earthen  water- jars,  or  large  baskets  of  bread,  which 
had  been  baked  in  the  oval  mud  ovens  ranged  in  front  of  the  pueblo. 
Everybody  treated  us  with  quiet  respect,  and  seemed  pleased  to  respond 
to  our  salutations.  We  climbed  over  one  of  the  ancient  piles,  mounting 
to  its  topmost  story  on  shaky  ladders,  peering  into  its  rooms,  which  we 
were  courteously  invited  to  enter,  and  where  we  found  sometimes  as 
many  as  a  dozen  Indians  sitting  on  the  floor,  engaged  in  adding  some 
last  touches  to  the  holiday  garments.  We  saw  few  young  men,  but 
afterwards  learned  that  they  were  in  the  estufas,  or  underground  coun- 
cil-chambers, preparing  for  the  next  day's  spectacle. 


112 


THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 


To  give  anything  like  an  adequate  account  of  the  festival  would  re- 
quire a  small  volume.  Early  on  that  resplendent  September  morning 
the  human  tide  began  to  pour  in,  till,  from  our  position  on  the  summit 
of  the  north  pueblo,  we  looked  down  to  the  plaza  below  on  a  surging 
mass  of  fully  three  thousand  Indians  and  Mexicans,  in  every  gay 
and  fantastic  garb.  The  fruit-vendors  had  established  themselves  in 
scores  of  little  stalls  scattered  over  the  plaza,  and  with  their  burros 
standing  patiently  by,  added  a  picturesque  feature  to  the  scene.  Three 
hundred  mad  young  Mexicans,  mounted  on  excited  ponies,  charged 
among  the  crowd  in  a  body,  dared  each  other  in  feats  of  horsemanship, 
or  "ran  the  galio"  on  the  opposite  bank.  The  padre  from  Santa  Fe 
first  held  service  in  the  little  church,  after  which  came  the  event  of  the 
day.  One  hundred  naked  and  painted  Indians  issued  in  solemn  march 
from  an  estufa,  and  began  the  race,  two  by  two,  over  the  straight  track 
a  thousand  feet  long.  For  an  hour  and  a  half  they  sped  up  and  down 
in  front  of  the  pueblo,  amid  the  wildest  excitement  of  the  spectators. 
Then  the  march  of  the  victors,  to  the  music  of  a  wild  chant,  while 
bread  is  showered  upon  them  from  one  of  the  roofs  of  the  pueblo 
under  which  they  pass,  closes  the  morning's  ceremonies. 

The  afternoon  is  consumed  by  the  antics  of  seven  unclothed  and 


curiously  painted  clowns. 
For  three  hours  do  they  PHANTOM  CURVE. 

amuse  that  motley  crowd 

with  their  mimic  cock  and  bull  fights,  and  their  semblance  of  plow- 
ing, threshing,  and  other  familiar  labors.  As  the  sun  nears  the  west, 
the  rabble  gather  about  a  pole,  fifty  feet  high,  over  the  cross-piece  at 
whose  top  has  been  hung  a  living  sheep,  together  with  garlands  of  fruit 
and  a  basket  of  bread.  After  many  pretended  failures,  the  pole  is 
climbed,  and  the  bread  and  fruit  are  thrown  to  the  ground.  Last  of  all, 
the  sheep,  in  which  a  spark  of  life  still  lingers,  is  detached,  and  strikes 


DEPARTURE  OF  AMOS.  113 

the  earth  with  a  sickening  thud.  With  yells  and  strange  cries  the 
Indians  rush  in,  the  sheep  is  torn  limb  from  limb,  and  with  this,  the 
only  revolting  part  of  the  entire  celebration,  thefite  ends. 

The  lava-caps  away  down  the  valley  were  glowing  golden  as  we 
rode  back  to  Fernandez.  Thought  was  busy  with  the  strange  events  of 
the  day.  During  how  many  centuries  had  these  onlooking  hills  wit- 
nessed the  gathering  throngs  of  such  festivals,  since  were  laid  the 
foundations  of  those  dusky  piles,  now  bathed  in  sunset  glory,  where 
tradition  says  the  cultured  hero  Montezuma  was  born,  and  whence  he 
set  out  on  his  prophetic  career?  And  can  this  ancient  people  long  with- 
stand the  civilization  that  is  fast  bearing  down  on  them;  or  will  it  not 
soon  engulf  them  and  fill  with  modern  life  the  sacred  valley? 

On  our  arrival  at  Embudo  we  found  the  Madame  in  much  tribula- 
tion. Not  that  any  harm  had  befallen  her;  but  the  cook,  from  being  an 
assistant  after  a  fashion,  had  immediately  on  our  departure  developed 
into  an  absolute  dependent.  This  personage  had  for  some  time  been  a 
subject  of  much  solicitude  and  serious  discussion  in  our  family  circle. 
We  could  sympathize  with  his  infirmities,  but  when  they  became  the 
ever-present  shield  to  the  most  aggravated  laziness,  our  philosophy 
weakened.  And  so,  when  the  Madame  had  explained  his  apparently 
total  collapse,  our  decision  was  speedily  reached.  In  spite  of  his  pro- 
testations and  his  phenomenal  physical  improvement,  we  lifted  him  by 
main  force  on  to  the  first  train,  and  shipped  him  northward  without  our 
blessing. 

Concerning  this  Amos,  the  Madame  wrote  as  follows  to  her  friend, 
Mrs.  McAngle:  "He  was  the  'Knight  of  the  Sorrowful  Countenance,' 
in  our  vocabulary  of  nicknames.  His  face  was  a  suggestion  of  martyr- 
dom done  in  coffee  color,  for  he  was  a  darkey  of  uncertain  and  speckled 
hue ;  and  his  religious  possessions,  a  couple  of  books  of  devotion  of  the 
most  melancholy  kind,  kept  him  up  to  his  model.  Everything  had  been 
put  into  our  kitchen-car  before  leaving  Denver,  pell-mell ;  and  when,  at 
our  first  evening's  halt,  I  went  out  to  investigate,  I  found  Amos  sitting 
on  a  soap-box,  in  the  midst  of  a  chaos  of  utensils  and  packages  of  pro- 
visions, almost  weeping  at  the  water-splashed  confusion,  without  making 
the  least  movement  toward  straightening  matters.  He  brought  with  him 
two  encumbrances, — a  fifteen  years'  experience  on  the  Sound  steamer 
Bristol  (so  he  said),  and  his  Rheumatism,  with  a  very  big  R 

"He  was  a  good  enough  cook  when  he  tried  to  be,  but  wholly 
averse  to  neatness.  Becoming  tired  of  seeing  things  that  bore  no  relation 
to  one  another  on  an  intimate  acquaintance,  as  the  bacon  and  flour,  for 
instance,  I  undertook,  with  fear  and  trembling,  some  mild  expostulation. 
But  I  had  not  gone  far  before  he  raised  himself  to  all  his  dignity,  and 
exclaimed,  '  I  have  served  fifteen  years  as  first  cook  on  board  the 
Bristol,'  and  then  turned  his  back  upon  me.  Somewhat  stunned,  but 

5* 


114  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

persevering,  I  continued  meekly  to  tell  him  the  things  I  wished  him  to 
attend  to.  Instantly  his  tone  changed  from  indignation  to  supplication, 
and  he  described  in  feeling  terms  his  rheumatism.  '  He  enjoyed  a  neat 
kitchen  as  well  as  anybody,  but  what  could  he  do,  having  his  joints  all 
knotted  up  with  this  terrible  disease?'  and  his  face  grew  sadder  than 
ever.  I  retired  from  the  field  vanquished,  and  reported  progress. 

"The  gentlemen  were  not  so  easily  silenced,  however,  and  that 
very  day  began  a  little  investigation.  'Amos,  can  you  make  a  tapioca 
pudding? '  cried  one,  at  lunch.  *  I  have  been  fifteen  years  chief  cook 
on  the  Bristol,'  came  the  answer,  with  an  upward  roll  of  the  prayerful 
eyes.  A  little  later:  'Amos,  bring  up  a  pail  of  fresh  water  from  the 
creek/  Very  glad  to  oblige  you,  sir  (a  groan),  but  I've  the  rheumatics.' 
When  one  excuse  wouldn't  answer  the  other  would.  So  we  sent  him 
off,  and  got  Burt  in  his  place, — a  youth  without  rheumatism  or  record, — 
who  proved  to  be  a  very  bright,  willing,  and  useful  boy." 


X 

TOLTEC  GORGE. 


I'll  look  no  more; 

Lest  my  brain  turn,  and  the  deficient  sight 
Topple  down  headlong. 

—KING  LEAR. 

AVING  at  last  turned  our  heels  reluctantly  on  the 
simple-hearted,  prettily-chequered  life  of  the  Pueblos, 
we  raced  back  in  a  single  night  to  the  plains  of  San 
Luis.  A  long  line  of  telegraph  poles  stretches  out  from 
Antonito  into  a  true  vanishing  point  across  the  park, 
and  the  train  follows  it  San  Juanward.  The  noble 
Sangre  de  Cristo  looms  up  higher  and  higher  behind  us  as  we  proceed, 
a  mirage  lifting  the  line  of  cottonwoods  along  the  Rio  Grande  into 
impossibly  tall  and  spindling  caricatures  of  trees;  while  the  Jemez 
mountains  away  to  the  south  are  not  yet  lost  to  view,  and  the  striking 
landmark  of  Mount  San  Antonio,  smooth  and  round,  is  close  at  hand. 
A  few  miles  beyond  it  the  arid  level  of  the  lake- spread  plain  breaks  into 
white,  stony  eminences,  reared  in  a  bold  front.  To  surmount  these  the 
track  is  arranged  in  long,  ingenious  loops,  in  one  place,  known  as  the 
"  Whiplash, ".extending  into  three  parallel  lines,  scarcely  a  stone's  throw 
apart,  but  disposed  terrace-like  on  the  hillside.  On  top  of  the  mesa  the 
sage-brush  disappears,  grass,  pinons  and  yellow  pines  taking  its  place, 
and  we  begin  to  wind  among  the  long,  straight  lava  ridges  at  the  foot  of 
the  divide  between  the  Los  Pinos  and  the  Chama,  whence  the  backward 
view  is  remarkably  fine.  The  road  here  is  like  a  goat's  path  in  its  vaga- 
ries, and  wagers  are  made  as  to  the  point  of  the  compass  to  be  aimed  at 
five  minutes  in  advance,  or  whether  the  track  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  crevasse  is  the  one  we  have  just  come  over,  or  are  now  about  to 
pursue. 

Describing  a  number  of  large  curves  around  constantly  deepening 
depressions,  we  reached  the  breast  of  a  mountain,  whence  we  obtained 
our  first  glimpse  into  Los  Pinos  valley;  and  it  came  like  a  sudden  reve- 
lation of  beauty  and  grandeur.  The  approach  had  been  picturesque  and 
gentle  in  character.  Now  we  found  our  train  clinging  to  a  narrow 
pathway  carved  out  far  up  the  mountain's  side,  while  great  masses  of  a 
volcanic  conglomerate  towered  overhead,  and  the  face  of  the  opposing 
heights  broke  off  into  bristling  crags.  The  river  sank  deeper  and  deeper 
into  the  narrowing  vale,  and  the  space  beneath  us  to  its  banks  was 

115 


116  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

excitingly  precipitous.  We  crowded  upon  the  platform,  the  outer  step 
of  which  sometimes  hung  over  an  abyss  that  made  us  shudder,  till  some 
friendly  bank  placed  itself  between  us  and  the  almost  unbroken  descent. 
But  we  learned  to  enjoy  the  imminent  edge,  along  which  the  train  crept 
so  cautiously,  and  begrudged  every  instant  that  the  landscape  was  shut 
out  by  intervening  objects. 

To  say  that  the  vision  here  is  grand,  awe-inspiring,  painfully  im- 
pressive or  memorable,  falls  short  of  the  truth  in  each  case.  It  is  too 
much  to  take  in  at  once,  and  we  were  glad  to  pause  again  for  a  little 
brain-rest  at  a  telegraph  station,  hung  almost  like  a  bird's  nest  among 
the  rocks, — to  grow  used  by  degrees  to  the  stupendous  picture  spread 
before  us.  We  were  so  high  that  not  only  the  bottom  of  the  valley, 
where  the  silver  ribbon  of  the  Los  Pinos  trailed  in  and  out  among  the 
trees,  and  underneath  the  headlands,  but  even  the  woode  1  tops  of  the 
further  rounded  hills  were  below  us,  and  we  could  count  the  dim,  dis- 
tant peaks  in  New  Mexico. 

Six  miles  ahead  lay  the  canon  of  which  we  had  heard  so  much, — 
the  Toltec  Gorge,  whose  praises  could  not  be  overdrawn.  Evidently 
his  majesty  had  entrenched  himself  in  glories  beside  which  any  ordinary 
monarch  would  lose  his  magnificence.  Was  this  king  of  canons  really 
so  great  he  could  afford  to  risk  all  rivalry?  Here,  on  the  left,  what 
noble  martello-tower  of  native  lava  is  that  which  stands  undizzied  on 
the  very  brink  of  the  precipice?  I  should  like  to  roll  it  off  and  watch 
it  cut  a  swath  through  that  puny  forest  down  there,  and  dam  up  the 
whole  stream  with  its  huge  breadth.  How  these  passages  of  spongy 
rock  resound  as  our  engine  drags  the  long  train  we  have  again  mounted 
through  their  lofty  portals!  How  narrow  apparently  are  these  curved 
and  smooth  embankments  that  carry  us  across  the  ravines,  and  how 
spidery  look  the  firmly-braced  bridges  that  span  -the  torrents  !  All  the 
way  the  road-bed  is  heaped  up  or  dug  out  artificially.  It  is  merely  a 
shelf  near  the  summit.  It  hugs  the  wall  like  a  chamois-stalker,  creeping 
stealthily  out  to  the  end  of  and  around  each  projecting  spur;  it  explores 
every  in-bending  gulch,  boldly  strides  across  the  water  channels,  and 
walks  undismayed  upon  the  utmost  verge,  where  rough  cliffs  overhang 
it,  and  the  gulf  sinks  away  hundreds  of  feet  beneath. 

In  the  most  secluded  nook  of  the  mountains  we  come  upon  Phan- 
tom Curve,  with  its  company  of  isolated  rocks,  made  of  stuff  so  hard 
as  to  have  stood  upright,  tall,  grotesque,  and  sunburned,  beside  the 
pigmy  firs  and  cowering  boulders  with  'which  they  are  surrounded. 
Miles  away  you  can  trace  these  black  pinnacles,  like  sentinels,  mid-way 
up  the  slopes;  but  here  at  hand  they  fill  the  eye,  and  in  their  fantastic 
resemblance  to  human  shapes  and  things  we  know  in  miniature,  seem 
to  us  crumbled  images  of  the  days  when  there  were  giants,  and  men  of 
Titanic  mold  set  up  mementoes  of  their  brawny  heroes, — 
"  Aclialan  statues  in  a  world  so  ricb! " 


AERIAL  RAILROADING.  117 

Phantoms,  they  are  called,  and  the  statuesque  shadows  they  cast, 
moving  mysteriously  along  the  white  bluffs,  as  the  sun  declines,  are 
uncanny  and  ghost-like,  perhaps;  but  the  brown,  rough,  grandly  group- 
ing monoliths  of  lava  themselves,  are  no  more  phantoms  than  are  the 
pyramids  of  Sahara,  and  beside  them  the  Theban  monuments  of  the 
mighty  Rameses  would  sink  into  insignificance. 

Winding  along  the  slender  track,  among  these  solemn  forms,  we 
approach  the  gorge,  the  vastly  seamed  and  wrinkled  face  of  whose  oppo- 
site wall  confronts  us  under  the  frown  of  an  intense  shade, —  unused 
to  the  light  from  all  eternity ;  but  on  this,  the  sunny  side,  a  rosy  pile, 
lifts  its  massive  head  proudly  far  above  us,  its  square,  fearless  fore- 
head,— 

"Fronting  heaven'a  splendor, 
Strong  and  full  and  clear." 

How  should  we  pass  it  ?  On  the  right  stood  the  solid  palisade  of 
the  sierra,  rising  unbroken  to  the  ultimate  heights;  on  the  left  the  gulf, 
its  sides  more  and  more  nearly  vertical,  more  and  more  terrible  in  their 
armature  of  splintered  ledges  and  pike-pointed  tree-tops, —  more  often 
breaking  away  into  perpendicular  cliffs,  whence  we  could  hurl  a  pebble, 
or  ourselves,  into  the  mad  torrent  easily  seen  but  too  far  below  to  be 
heard;  and  as  we  draw  nearer,  the  rosy  crags  rise  higher  and  more  dis- 
tinct across  our  path.  We  turn  a  curve  in  the  track,  the  cars  leaning 
toward  the  inside,  as  if  they,  too,  retreated  from  the  look  down  into  that 
"vasty  deep,"  and  lo  !  a  gateway  tunneled  through, —  the  barrier  is 
conquered  ! 

The  blank  of  the  tunnel  gives  one  time  to  think.  Pictures  of  the 
beetling,  ebony-pillared  cliffs  linger  in  the  retina  suddenly  deprived  of 
the  reality,  and  reproduce  the  seamed  and  jagged  rocks  in  fiery  simili- 
tude upon  the  darkness.  In  a  twinkling  the  impression  fades,  and  at 
the  same  instant  you  catch  a  gleam  of  advancing  light,  and  dash  out 
into  the  sunshine, —  into  the  sunshine  only  ?  Oh,  no,  out  into  the  air, — 
an  awful  leap  abroad  into  invisibly  bounded  space;  and  you  catch  your 
breath,  startled  beyond  self-control  ! 

Then  it  is  all  over,  and  you  are  still  on  your  feet,  listening  to  the 
familiar  ring  of  the  brown  walls  as  they  fly  past. 

What  was  it  you  saw  that  made  your  breathing  cease,  and  the  blood 
chill  in  your  heart  with  swift  terror  ?  It  is  hard  to  remember;  but  there 
remains  a  feeling  of  an  instant's  suspension  over  an  irregular  chasm  that 
seemed  cut  to  the  very  center  of  the  earth,  and,  to  your  dilated  eye, 
gleamed  brightly  at  ihe  bottom,  as  though  it  penetrated  even  the  realms 
of  Pluto.  You  knew  it  opened  outwardly  into  the  gorge,  for  there  in 
front  stood  the  mighty  wall,  bracing  the  mountain  far  overhead,  and 
below  flashed  the  foaming  river.  This  is  the  sum  of  your  recollection, 
photographed  upon  your  brain  by  a  mental  process  more  instantaneous 
than  any  application  of  art,  and  never  to  be  erased.  Gradually  you  con- 


118 


THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 


elude  that  the  train 
ran  directly  out  upon 
a  short  trestle,  one 
end  of  which  rests 
in  the  mouth  of  the 
tunnel,  and  the  other 
in  the  jaws  of  a  rock 
cutting.  This  is  the 
fact;  but  the  traveler 
reasons  it  out,  for  he 
cannot  see  the  sup- 
port beneath  his  car, 
which,  to  all  intents, 
takes  a  flying  bound 
across  a  cleft  in  the 
granite  eleven  hun- 
dred measured  feet 
in  depth. 

Our  train   having 

^4.-^"  halted,  the  Artist  sought  a  favorable  position 
for  obtaining  the  sketch  of  Toltec  Gorge  which 
adorns  these  pages,  the  Photographer  became 

similarly  absorbed,  and  the  remaining  members  of  the  expedition  zeal- 
ously examined  a  spot  whose  counterpart  in  rugged  and  inspiring 
sublimity  probably  does  not  exist  elsewhere  in  America.  A  few  rods 
up  the  canon  a  thin  and  ragged  pinnacle  rises  abruptly  from  the  very 
bottom  to  a  level  with  the  railway  track.  This  point  has  been  christened 
Eva  Chif,  and  when  we  had  gained  its  crest  by  dint  of  much  laborious 
and  hazardous  climbing  over  a  narrow  gangway  of  rocks,  by  which  it 
is  barely  connected  with  the  neighboring  bank,  our  exertions  were  well 
repaid  by  the  splendid  view  of  the  gorge  it  afforded. 

Just  west  of  the  tunnel,  and  close  beside  the  track,  the  rocks  have 
been  broken  and  leveled  into  a  small  smooth  space,  and  here,  on  the  26th 
of  September,  1881,  that  gloomiest  day  in  the  decade  for  our  people, 
were  celebrated  as  impressive  memorial  services  for  GARFIELD,  the  noble 
man  and  beloved  president,  then  lying  dead  on  his  stately  catafalque  in 
Cleveland,  as  were  anywhere  seen.  The  weather  itself,  in  these  remote 
and  lonely  mountains,  seemed  in  unison  with  the  sadness  of  the  nation, 
for  heavy  black  clouds  swept  overhead,  and  the  wind  made  solemn 
moanings  in  the  shaken  trees.  It  was  under  circumstances  so  fittingly 
mournful  that  an  excursion  party,  gathered  from  nearly  eveiy  state  in 
the  Union,  paused  to  express  the  universal  sorrow,  and  to  conceive  the 
foundation  of  the  massive  monument  which  catches  the  traveler's  eye 
on  the  brink  of  the  gorge,  and  upon  whose  polished  tablet  are  engraved 
these  words  : 


THE  VERGE  OF  IMMORTALITY 


119 


IN    ME  MORI  AM. 


JAMES   ABRAM    GARFIELD, 

PRESIDENT   OF   THE   UNITED    STATES, 

DIED   SEPTEMBER    19,   1881, 
MOURNED   BY   ALL   THE    PEOPLE. 


Erected    by  Members  of  the  National 

Association  of  General  Passenger  and 

Ticket    Agents,   who    held     Memorial 

Burial  Services  on  this  spot, 

September  26,  1881. 


XI 

ALONG  THE  SOUTHERN  BORDER. 


There  In  the  gorges  that  widen,  descending 
From  cloud  and  from  cold  Into  summer  eternal, 
Gather  the  threads  of  the  Ice-gendered  fountains, — 
Gather  to  riotous  torrents  of  crystal, 
And  giving  each  shelvy  recess  where  they  dally 
The  blooms  of  the  north  and  its  evergreen  turfage. 

— BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

HOUGH  the  climax  of  the  pass  to  the  sight-seer  is  Toltec 
Gorge,  the  actual  crest  of  the  Finos  -  Chama  divide  is 
at  Cumbres,  some  fifteen  miles  westward,  and  several 
hundred  feet  higher.  After  leaving  Toltec,  the  brink 
of  the  cliff  is  skirted  for  some  time,  and  many  grand 
and  exciting  views  are  presented;  but  the  stream  is 
broken  into  cascades,  and  rapidly  rises  to  the  plane  of  the  track.  Passing 
a  number  of  snow-sheds,  the  train  is  soon  twisting  around  shallow  side 
ravines,  and  at  last,  after  making  a  great  circle  of  nearly  a  mile,  there 
comes  a  stoppage  of  that  dragging  sensation  which  the  wheels  impart 
on  an  upward  grade,  and  the  cars  halt  on  the  little  level  space  at  the 
summit.  From  Antonito  to  Cumbres  the  maximum  ascent  to  the  mile 
is  only  seventy-five  feet,  while  on  the  western  slope  the  descent  per 
mile  reaches  two  hundred  and  eleven  feet.  This  intrepid  railway  crosses 
the  main  ranges  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  over  seven  or  eight  distinct 
passes;  and  in  every  instance  the  locating  engineers  have  followed  one 
water-course  upward  to  its  head,  and  another  downward  to  the  valley, 
finding  invariably  the  sources  of  these  oppositely  flowing  brooks  to  be 
in  springs  only  a  few  feet  or  rods  apart  at  the  top.  In  the  present 
case  so  slight  is  the  separation  that  we  seem  to  stop  beside  the  Los  Pinos, 
and  to  start  beside  Wolf  Creek.  Although  at  an  altitude  of  about  9,500 
feet,  the  neat  station  buildings  at  Cumbres  are  located  in  a  depressed 
indentation,  whence  the  surrounding  hills  shut  off  all  outlook. 

Our  train  is  scarcely  in  motion  again,  however,  ere  a  deep  gully 
opens  at  our  feet,  and  we  commence  to  crawl  cautiously  around  the 
protruding  face  of  Cumbres  Mountain,  with  its  curiously-piled  top  of 
red  and  gray  sandstone,  and  its  precipitous  front,  in  which  is  hewn 
midway  a  shelf  for  the  track.  Beyond  this  we  pass  a  great  curve,  and 
then  overlook  a  beautiful  valley,  which  leads  down  into  the  broad  basin 
through  which  the  Rio  Chama  pursues  its  way  southeasterly  to  its  junc- 

120 


LA  TIERRA  AMARILLA.  121 

tion  with  the  Kio  Grande  at  Chamita.  The  view  here  is  picturesque, 
and  well  worthy  the  reproduction  our  artist  has  seen  fit  to  give  it.  There 
are  glimpses  of  far-off,  white-edged  mesa-lands,  with  spaces  of  shadowy 
cobalt  between.  The  brook  sinks  deeper,  and  its  grassy  banks  are  full 
of  yellow  and  purple  asters,  in  brightest  bloom,  glorifying  the  whole  hill- 
side up  to  where,  a  short  distance  from  its  bed,  begins  the  solid  spruce 
and  aspen  forest.  Near  Lobato,  the  track  crosses  from  one  tawny  ridge 
to  another,  on  a  lofty  iron  bridge,  and  we  note  that  Wolf  Creek  is  here  a 
jovely  stream,  with  many  cozy  nooks  in  which  the  sportsman  may  pitch 
his  tent,  and  are  informed  that  the  water  is  full  of  trout,  while  the 
wooded  mountain  slopes  abound  in  large  and  small  game.  Once  down 
in  the  valley,  the  way  is  through  smooth  lawns  and  pleasant  groves  until 
Chama  is  reached,  and  here  we  pause  to  ask  questions  about  sheep. 

Our  cars  were  set  aside  in  the  very  woods,  far  from  the  noisy 
station  ;  a  Y  runs  southward  there,  the  germ  perhaps  of  a  railway 
down  the  river  to  Chamita,  where  it  may  join  the  southern  line.  All 
about  us  are  the  never-silent  pines,  and  the  breezes  that  whisper 
among  their  rugged  branches  blow  laden  with  balsamic  odors.  Close  by 
is  the  Rio  Chama,  hidden  between  dense  and  continuous  thickets, 
through  which  the  cattle  can  tell  you  of  winding  and  mysterious  paths. 
Everything  in  the  landscape  is  soft  and  peaceful.  The  grass  lies  green 
and  tender;  the  rounded  clusters  of  willows,  blending  with  the  glowing 
masses  of  poplar  behind  them,  bright  in  their  new  autumn  colors,  make 
no  sharp  line  against  the  pine  copse,  nor  this  against  the  swelling,  gaily- 
clothed  background  of  the  hills  above. 

Through  this  utterly  wild,  yet  richly  modulated  scene,  the  Madame 
and  I  rode  off  one  morning  down  to  Tierra  Amarilla,  leaving  our  com- 
panions to  angle  for  finny  beauties.  For  miles  the  two  mules  trotted 
gaily  with  us  through  alternate  groups  of  gigantic  yellow  pines  and 
open  stretches  of  grassy  upland,  where  now  and  then  we  struck  panic 
into  the  hearts  of  a  flock  of  sheep.  Then  signs  of  ranch -life  began,  and 
some  cattle  were  met ;  and  ten  miles  from  Chama  we  came  upon  the 
thrifty  plazita  of  Los  Brazos  (the  Arms),  surrounded  by  a  wide  district 
of  farming  land.  This  continued  three  miles,  and  centered  in  a  second 
hamlet,  Los  Ojos  (the  Springs),  where  there  were  several  shops;  thence 
two  miles  more,  across  a  sage-brush  terrace,  took  us  to  our  destination. 

Though  the  post-office  has  restricted  the  use  of  the  name  to  this 
village,  the  whole  region,  on  account  of  its  peculiar  beds  of  ochre  earth, 
was  formerly  known  as  La  Tierra  Amarilla.  This  has  been  abbreviated, 
not  only  in  spelling,  but  in  speaking,  until  its  ordinary  pronunciation  is 
Terr-amareea. .  In  1837  a  tract  forty  miles  square,  in  this  part  of  the  valley 
of  the  Chama,  was  granted  by  the  Mexican  government  to  Serior  Manuel 
Martin  and  his  eight  sons.  There  was  a  failure  to  ratify  the  matter 
somehow,  and  in  1860,  old  Manuel  having  died,  his  eldest  son,  Francisco 
Martin,  applied  to  the  Surveyor-General  of  the  United  States  to  have  the 

6 


122  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

grant  confirmed  to  him,  his  brothers  "and  their  companions"  resident 
thereon.  The  Surveyor-General,  however,  struck  the  "companions" 
out,  and  ratified  the  grant  only  to  the  heirs  of  Manuel  Martin.  When 
this  was  discovered,  Francisco,  with  the  consent  of  his  brothers,  at  once 
gave  to  each  incumbent  the  land  he  occupied,  and  a  deed  for  the  same. 
Soon  after  this  the  Martins  sold  out  all  the  domain,  getting  scarcely  ten 
thousand  dollars  for  the  whole  million  of  acres,  which  passed  chiefly 
into  the  hands  of  a  gentleman  of  Santa  Fe.  The  next  proprietor  is  to  be 
an  English  company,  which  proposes  to  colonize  the  tract  with  British 
farmers  and  stock-raisers.  The  price  paid,  it  is  said,  amounts  to  more 
than  two  millions  of  dollars.  Pending  these  successive  arrangements, 
the  unfortunate  settlers  found  their  deeds  valueless,  because  of  inform- 
ality,— a  neglect  not  at  all  strange  in  a  Mexican  hidalgo.  On  the  point  of 
being  ousted  of  their  supposed  proprietary  rights,  if  not  actually  dispos- 
sessed, they  bethought  themselves  of  a  lucky  law  of  the  territory,  which 
gives  ownership  to  anyone  who  can  show  a  color  of  title,  and  undisputed 
possession  for  ten  years.  This  statute  saved  them,  and  they  will  be 
bought  out  by  the  Englishmen. 

Farming  here  hardly  yields  enough  of  grain  to  meet  the  local 
demand,  except  in  the  oat  crop.  The  soil  is  good,  the  irrigating  facili- 
ties very  large  and  convenient,  timber  is  plenty,  and  the  climate  superb. 
Yet  only  a  portion  of  the  wide,  fertile  bottom-land  is  under  cultivation, 
and  the  valley  invites  intelligent  immigration  with  an  array  of  induce- 
ments unusual  in  New  Mexico. 

But  there  is  no  laxity  in  the  matter  of  wool-producing,  a  full  million 
of  sheep  belonging  at  Tierra  Amarilla,  distributed  among  about  two 
hundred  owners.  These  are  never  sold,  except  under  ,-  tress  of  need  for 
money,  when  they  bring  from  one  to  two  dollars  each.  The  value  of  the 
total  flock,  then,  will  be  somewhat  over  a  million  of  dollars;  while  the 
annual  production  of  wool  will  amount  to  more  than  two  millions  of 
pounds,  worth  more  or  less  than  half  a  million  dollars,  according  to  the 
price  of  wool.  Its  natural  outlet  to  market  is  through  Chama  and 
Amargo.  Early  in  September  the  flocks  are  started  on  their  march  to 
the  southern  part  of  the  territory,  where  they  can  feed  unharmed  by 
winter  storms. 

I  do  not  know  a  better  place  to  study  the  primitive  life  of  New 
Mexico,  with  all  its  quaint  features;  and  the  traveler  who  follows  our 
example,  and  digresses  long  enough  to  ride  down  to  the  settlements  I 
have  mentioned,  will  not  regret  his  short  divergence  from  the  beaten 
track. 

Resuming  the  iron  trail  westward  from  Chama,  all  the  way  to 
Willow  Creek  the  same  beautiful  parks  of  yellow  pine  continued,  and 
the  track  crossed  and  recrossed  a  sparkling  brook.  Passing  the  mines  of 
excellent  bituminous  coal  at  Monero,  and  surmounting  a  low  water-shed, 
which  is  in  reality  the  continental  divide,  the  deeply-notched  tops  of  the 


THE  HOT  SPRINGS  AT  PAGOSA.  123 

Sierra  Madre  came  into  view  in  the  north,  and  we  spanned  the  first  of 
the  many  streams  that  flow  down  from  it  into  the  Rio  San  Juan.  A 
birds  eye  view  of  this  well-wooded  and  almost  flat  region,  just  on  the 
line  between  Colorado  and  New  Mexico,  would  have  shown  it  to  consist 
of  a  series  of  low,  slightly-tilted  ridges,  parallel  with  which  ran  the 
serpentine  and  deeply-sunken  rivers. 

The  first  or  easternmost  of  these  streams  is  the  Rio  Navajo,  encoun- 
tered near  Amargo,  and  up  to  which,  all  the  way  from  Chama,  nothing 
is  to  be  found  save  grazing  land,  devoted  mainly  to  sheep.  Though  its 
bottoms  available  for  agriculture  are  probably  broader  than  the  water  it 
contains  is  able  to  irrigate,  far  more  farming  remains  to  be  done  here 
than  has  yet  been  undertaken.  The  Rio  San  Juan,  into  which  the  Rio 
Navajo  empties  just  west  of  Juanita,  is  the  great  drainage  channel  of 
this  portion  of  Colorado  and  New  Mexico,  and  a  river  of  power  even 
here.  Its  crystal-clear  waters  to-day  prattle  innocently,  but  they  some- 
times come  down  from  the  heights  like  an  Indian  raid,  a  besom  of 
destruction  for  anything  not  as  firmly  anchored  as  the  granite  buttresses 
of  the  hills  themselves. 

From  Amargo, — there  is  no  end  of  bloody  history  attached  to  El 
Amargo  and  its  fine  canon,  dating  from  the  early  days  of  settlement, 
Indian  fighting  and  border  ruffianism, — runs  the  old  stage-road  north- 
ward to  Pagosa  Springs,  Animas  City,  and  the  interior  mines.  The 
tales  of  that  thoroughfare  would  furnish  a  whole  library  of  flash  litera- 
ture without  going  much  astray  from  the  truth. 

Pagosa  is  the  far-famed  "big  medicine"  of  the  Utes, — the  greatest 
thermal  fountains  on  the  continent.  "The  largest  of  these  springs  is  at 
least  forty  feet  in  diameter,  and  hot  enough  to  cook  an  egg  in  a  few 
minutes.  Carbonic  acid  gas  and  steam  bubble  up  in  great  quantities 
from  the  bottom,  and  keep  the  surface  always  in  a  state  of  agitation. 
The  water  has  the  faculty  of  dividing  the  light  into  its  component  colors, 
producing  effects  very  similar  to  those  of  the  opalescent  glass  of  com- 
merce. Around  the  large  spring,  and  extending  for  a  mile  down  the 
creek,  are  innumerable  smaller  ones,  many  of  which  discharge  vast 
amounts  of  almost  boiling  water.  These,  being  highly  charged  with 
saline  matter,  have  produced  by  deposition  all,  or  nearly  all,  of  the 
ground  in  their  vicinity,  and  their  streams  meander  through  its  cavern- 
ous structure,  often  disappearing  and  reappearing  many  times  before 
they  finally  emerge  into  the  river.  This  spot  must  become  a  great 
popular  resort.  Its  plentifully  timbered  and  mountainous  surroundings 
enhance  the  interest  it  otherwise  possesses  for  the  traveler  and  health- 
seeker,  and  the  medicinal  value  of  the  springs  claims  the  attention  of  all 
who  can  afford  time  to  visit  them. 

"  The  village  of  Pagosa  Springs  is  situated  about  four  miles  south 
of  the  base  of  the  San  Juan  range,  upon  the  immediate  southeastern 
bank  of  the  Rio  San  Juan.  It  consists  of  a  group  of  dwellings,  stores, 


124  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

and  bath-houses,  among  which  the  steam  of  the  hot  springs  issues  in 
such  clouds  as  at  times  to  render  the  entire  place  invisible.  Immediately 
above  the  town,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river,  rises  a  flat-topped, 
isolated  hill,  whose  summit  contains  a  plateau  large  enough  to  liberally 
accommodate  the  government  post  which  has  been  erected  there.  Uti- 
lizing the  pines  so  abundant  in  the  neighborhood,  the  buildings  are  all 
made  of  logs ;  and  model  log-houses  they  are.  A  more  inviting  military 
camp,  both  as  regards  location  and  construction,  could  not  well  be  con- 
ceived." 

Pagosa  lies  in  the  heart  of  that  splendid  pine  forest,  which  covers  a 
tract  one  hundred  and  thirty  miles  east  and  west  by  from  twenty  to 
forty  miles  north  and  south.  Here  the  trees  grow  tall  and  straight,  and 
of  enormous  size.  No  underbrush  hides  their  bright,  clean  shafts,  and, 
curiously  enough,  it  is  only  in  special  locations  that  any  low  ones  are  to 
be  found.  These  monarchs  of  the  forest  seem  to  be  the  last  of  their 
race,  and,  like  the  Indians,  are  doomed  very  soon  to  disappear.  Thev 
are  of  immense  value,  for  they  form  a  huge  storehouse  of  the  finest  lum- 
ber in  a  country  poorly  supplied  in  general  with  such  material. 

The  vicinity  of  the  springs  is  destined  to  yield  large  crops  under 
irrigation,  though  at  present  there  is  little  settlement  there.  Mexicans 
pasture  their  sheep  as  thickly  as  the  fields  will  hold  them;  and  try  to 
give  their  flocks  a  few  days  in  the  basin  at  least  once  each  season,  be- 
lieving that  the  drinking  of  the  waters  is  of  great  benefit  to  the  animals. 
Though  the  upper  valley  of  the  San  Juan  is  unlikely  to  prove  very 
profitable  as  agricultural  land,  the  lower  parts,  in  New  Mexico,  are  the 
scene  of  extensive  and  highly  successful  Indian  farming  operations. 
The  next  stream  westward,  however,  the  Rio  de  las  Nutrias  (River  of 
Rabbits),  has  good  ranches,  and  so  has  the  Rio  de  las  Piedras  (Stony 
river),  the  Rio  Florida  (River  of  Flowers),  the  Rio  de  los  Pinos  (Pine 
river),  and  the  Rio  de  las  Animas  Perdidas  (River  of  Lost  Souls),  up 
whose  valley  we  turned  sharply  when  a  few  miles  from  Durango.  But 
thus  far  only  a  fraction  of  the  tillable  soil  has  been  located  on. 

At  Amargo, — for  in  this  sketch  of  the  rivers  I  have  run  ahead  of  our 
actual  progress, — we  find  several  hundred  Apaches  waiting  to  receive 
their  rations,  it  being  the  weekly  issuing  day.  Three  of  the  redskins 
importune  us  for  a  ride,  and  we  take  them  upon  our  platform,  having 
entomological  objections  against  offering  them  the  hospitalities  of  the 
interior  of  the  car.  Our  fund  of  Spanish  is  mutually  limited,  but  one 
of  us  has  a  fair  knowledge  of  the  sign  language,  learned  in  former  wan- 
derings among  the  Dakotas  and  Kalispelm;  and  while  these  Apaches 
never  heard  of  either  of  those  great  northern  nations  of  red  men,  they 
readily  understand  most  of  the  signs,  though  frequently  showing  us 
with  great  good  nature  that  their  way  of  expressing  an  idea  is  by  a  some- 
what different  gesture. 

Our  visitors  were  men  of  medium  size,  beardless,  and  very  dark. 


TOLTEC  GORGE. 


126  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

Their  hair  was  coal  black,  straight,  parted  in  the  middle,  carefully 
combed,  and  gathered  into  two  braids,  the  end  of  each  being  ornamented 
with  a  feather  or  a  tuft  of  yarn.  They  wore  woolen  shirts,  the  original 
colors  of  which  were  lost  in  dirt ;  buckskin  leggings,  with  fringes  on  the 
outer  seam;  moccasins  of  poorly  tanned  sheepskin,  pointed  at  the  toe 
and  decorated  with  fringes.  Bright  scarlet  blankets,  marked  U.  S.  I.  D., 
were  wrapped  around  their  waists  or  drawn  over  their  hatless  polls. 
Each  man  carried  a  sheath-knife  at  his  belt,  and  a  bow  with  about  a 
dozen  arrows  wrapped  in  a  sheepskin  case.  Their  features  expressed 
much  intelligence  and  good  humor,  easily  breaking  into  chuckles  of 
laughter,  for  they  enjoyed  studying  us  quite  as  much  as  we  did  them. 

These  Indians  were  Jicarilla  Apaches,  another  branch  of  what  was 
originally  the  same  great  tribe  being  the  Mescalero  Apaches,  of  southern 
New  Mexico.  The  Jicarillas  number  about  eight  hundred  souls,  all 
told,  and  are  apportioned  into  five  bands,  under  as  many  chiefs,  the 
most  influential  of  whom  is  Huarito  (Little  Blonde),  though  he  has  no 
nominal  headship.  Their  reservation  extends  thirty-three  miles  south- 
ward from  the  Colorado  line,  and  is  sixteen  miles  in  breadth.  On 
account  of  the  severity  of  the  winters  about  Amargo,  the  Government 
moved  these  Indians,  during  the  autumn  of  1883,  to  Fort  Stanton, 
reuniting  them  there  with  the  Mescaleros,  on  the  reservation  of  the 
latter.  Whether  this  experiment  will  "work"  remains  to  be  seen,  as 
more  than  half  the  tribe  were  dissatisfied,  and  avowed  their  intention 
of  returning  in  the  following  spring. 

Amargo  canon,  which  is  always  pretty,  and  sometimes  approaches 
grandeur,  extends  westward  to  Juanita.  There  it  widens  out  and  dis- 
appears in  a  series  of  little  parks,  where  the  mountains  diminish  into 
pine-clad  hills.  For  the  next  score  of  miles  we  skirt  the  turbulent  Rio 
San  Juan;  but  just  west  of  Arboles,  where  it  receives  the  Rio  de  las 
Piedras,  we  leave  it,  the  road  making  a  long  detour,  and  climbing  up 
and  away  from  the  stream,  to  a  wide,  rolling  mesa.  Descending  again, 
La  Boca  is  reached,  where  we  cross  the  Rio  de  los  Pinos,  clear,  rapid, 
and  of  good  size,  which  we  follow  up  to  Ignacio. 

At  this  point  is  another  Indian  Agency, — that  for  the  Southern  Utes, 
under  an  aged  head-chief  after  whom  the  station  is  named.  There  are 
somewhat  over  eight  hundred  Indians  here,  divided  into  three  or  four 
bands  under  sub  chiefs.  Their  reservation,  which  the  railway  traverses 
from  where  it  re-enters  Colorado,  near  Carracas,  nearly  to  the  Rio  Flori- 
da, measures  about  sixteen  miles  north  and  south,  and  over  one  hundred 
miles  east  and  west.  These  Utes  are  considered  far  more  intelligent 
than  the  Apaches,  and  their  conduct  is  more  taciturn  and  dignified. 
Though  not  congregating  in  any  considerable  numbers  along  the  track, 
they  are  not  unfriendly  to  the  whites,  and  daily  wander  about  the  streets 
of  Durango.  They  are  now  the  only  Indians  occupying  a  reservation 
within  the  limits  of  Colorado. 


AMONG   THE  SOUTHERN  UTES.  127 

The  members  of  both  tribes  are  allowed  to  ride  free  at  will  on 
passenger  trains,  and  the  railway  company  has  never  experienced  the 
slightest  trouble  from  them.  Liquor  is  kept  from  their  reach  as  much 
as  possible.  Gambling  is  their  passion. 

Approaching  Ignacio  the  train  runs  through  shady  lowlands,  and 
passes,  here  and  there,  groups  of  teepees,  the  swarthy  occupants  of  each 
lodge  stepping  out  and  standing  motionless  as  statues  in  the  shrubbery, 
watching  us  sweep  by.  The  Rio  Florida,  which  is  soon  crossed,  is  alive 
with  trout,  and  along  its  upper  course  is  excellent  shooting.  The  whole 
region  is  undulating,  green-carpeted,  and  covered  with  large  yellow-bolecl 
pines,  through  which  we  catch  magnificent  mountain-views  northward. 
Near  Carboneria,  the  track  describes  two  tremendous  loops,  in  getting 
down  from  the  table  lands  to  the  valley,  and  presently,  rounding  the 
mountain  spur,  reaches  the  Hio  de  las  Animas,  which  it  parallels  into 
Durango,  along  a  cutting  through  gravel  and  rock  some  distance  above 
the  bed  of  the  stream. 

Toward  the  last  we  had  seen  evidences  of  the  great  La  Plata  coal- 
field, to  which  I  must  devote  a  paragraph.  It  extends  from  the  Rio  de 
los  Pinos  almost  to  the  southwestern  corner  of  Colorado,  and  has  been 
tapped  in  many  places.  This  field  is  in  sandstones  and  shales  of  the 
cretaceous  age,  divided  into  the  upper  and  lower  measures,  about  1,000 
feet  apart.  The  lower  coal  measure  is  in  a  zone  of  shaly  sandstones  which 
are  about  300  feet  thick,  and  when  separated  from  the  shale  is  of  excel- 
lent quality  for  domestic  use.  This  lower  measure  is  underlaid  by  a  bed 
of  dark  gray  shale,  containing  calcareous  seams  and  nodules,  called  sep- 
taria.  The  La  Plata  coal-bed  reaches  from  the  east  end  of  the  county  for 
over  sixty  miles,  and  is  crossed  by  the  river.  The  thickness  of  the  entire 
bed  between  the  floor  and  the  roof  is  over  fifty  feet,  and  it  contains  about 
forty  feet  of  good  coal,  free  from  shale.  The  floor,  of  grayish  white 
sandstone,  is  covered  with  a  thin  layer  of  clay  and  clay  shale.  Upon 
this  is  a  layer  of  compact,  firm  coal,  six  to  eight  feet  thick;  then  a  layer 
of  tough  black  shale,  one  and  a  half  to  two  feet  thick.  The  remainder 
is  a  bed  of  excellent  coal  with  only  small  seams  of  shale  at  intervals 
of  four  to  ten  feet.  The  "roof"  is  a  tough  shaly  sandstone,  alternating 
with  true  shales  for  a  distance  of  several  hundred  feet  above  the  coal-bed, 
and  containing  two  or  three  small  veins  of  coal. 

Duraugo  is  beautifully  located  on  the  eastern  bank  of  the  river, 
the  commercial  portion  being  on  the  first  or  lower  bench,  and  the  resi- 
dences on  the  second  or  higher  plateau.  Thus  the  homes  of  the  people 
occupy  a  sightly  position,  apart  from  the  turmoil  of  traffic,  while  lofty 
mountains  and  wall-like  cliffs  shelter  the  valley  on  all  sides.  Though 
founded  only  in  the  autumn  of  1880,  the  city  now  contains  a  population 
of  over  five  thousand,  and  is  the  most  important  point  in  southern  Colo- 
rado. Here  centers  the  business  whose  operations  extend  throughout 
the  entire  mountain  system,  and  into  the  tillage  and  stock-raising  dis- 


128  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

tricts  of  northwestern  New  Mexico.  The  great  supply  stores,  with  their 
heavy  assortments  of  general  merchandise,  indicate  a  jobbing  trade  of 
no  mean  dimensions,  and  one  which  is  steadily  growing;  while  the 
extensive  and  elegant  retail  shops,  unsurpassed  in  the  state  outside  of 
Denver,  bear  evidence  to  the  refined  demands  and  prosperity  of  the  citi- 
zens. Here  also  are  concentrated  the  social,  religious  and  school  advan- 
tages which  make  up  an  intellectual  nucleus.  Its  low  altitude  and  easy 
accessibility  render  the  town  desirable  as  a  temporary  home  for  those 
engaged  in  mining,  but  who  care  not  to  endure  the  rigors  of  the  long 
winter  among  boreal  fastnesses.  The  banks  of  Durango  are  substan- 
tial institutions,  and  the  hotels  are  commodious.  Municipal  improve- 
ments are  being  judiciously  added,  the  most  prominent  tor  1883  having 
been  the  erection  of  water-works,  while  street  cars  and  gas-works  are 
contemplated  at  an  early  day.  The  smelting  of  ores  is  carried  on  here 
actively  and  successfully,  the  convenience  of  coal,  coke  and  fluxes, 
and  the  hauling  of  the  ores  down  hill,  giving  the  place  marked  advan- 
tages for  this  industry.  Superior  opportunities  are  likewise  presented 
for  a  great  variety  of  manufactures,  foremost  among  them  being  iron 
and  steel  productions, — iron  ore,  limestone  and  all  other  necessary  ingre- 
dients abounding  in  the  locality,  and  being  of  easy  access.  The  fall  of 
the  stream, — two  hundred  feet  per  mile, — supplies  a  water-power  of 
never  failing  volume.  Of  late  the  city  has  been  extending  its  limits,  and 
now  one  may  find  an  attractive  ward,  with  cosy  cottages  and  more  pre- 
tentious houses  across  the  river,  and  in  the  twilight  shadow  of  the 
maiestic  bluffs  which  here  rise  precipitously  a  thousand  feet.  Taken  all 
in  all.  DO  frontier  town  within  our  ken  shows  a  more  vigorous  and 
healthy  growth,  or  brighter  promise  for  the  future,  than  Durango  on 
tiui  Animus. 


XII 

THE  QUEEN  OF  THE  CANONS. 


Receding  now,  the  dying  numbers  ring 
Fainter  and  fainter  down  the  rugged  dell, 

And  now  the  mountain  breezes  scarcely  bring 
A  wandering  witch  note  of  the  distant  spell, — 
And  now,  't  is  silent  all— Enchantress,  fare-thee-well. 

— WALTBR  SCOTT. 

HEN,  some  ten  years  ago,  the  writer  had  let  his  mule 
down  into  Baker's  Park,  by  hitching  its  wiry  tail 
around  successive  snubbing-posts,  the  prediction  was 
ventured  that  at  some  distant  day  a  railway  would 
penetrate  these  solitudes;  and  that  it  would  approach 
from  the  southward,  through  a  canon  which  not  even 
an  Indian  had  ever  been  known  to  traverse, — the  trails  in  that  direction 
then  leading  over  a  terrible  range,  at  a  height  far  above  the  limit  of  vege- 
tation. The  prophecy  has  been  verified,  for  the  Denver  and  Rio  Grande 
has  already  pushed  its  southwestern  extension  through  the  Canon  of  the 
Aniinas,  reaching  Silverton  in  July,  1832. 

Here  the  cores  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  have  been  buried  beneath 
an  overflow  of  eruptive  rock  spreading  over  four  thousand  five  hundred 
square  miles  of  territory;  or  else,  along  with  the  sandstones  and  slates 
which  were  deposited  against  their  sides,  they  have  been  metamorphosed 
into  schists  and  quartzites.  "The  character  of  the  volcanic  rocks 
throughout  the  district,"  says  Dr.  Hayden's  report,  "is  one  of  extreme 
interest,  demonstrating  an  enormous  amount  of  activity  during  a  prob- 
ably short  period  of  time  (geologically  speaking),  which  activity  was, 
nevertheless,  accompanied  by  a  comparatively  large  number  of  changes 
in  the  chemical  and  physical  qualities  of  the  ejected  material." 

This  geological  composition  gives  to  these  mountains, — and  particu- 
larly to  the  quartzite  peaks  along  the  southern  border  of  the  eruptive 
area, — a  different  appearance  from  any  of  the  northern  Rockies, — a  more 
precipitous,  Alpine  and  grander  countenance,  with  sharp  pinnacles, 
tremendous  vertically  walled  chasms,  and  extensive  forests  of  spruce 
clothing  their  lower  declivities.  In  no  other  locality  are  so  many  very 
lofty  summits  to  be  seen  crowded  together.  Sierra  Blanca  and  two  or 
three  other  single  peaks  in  Colorado  and  Wyoming  slightly  outrank  any 
here ;  but  nowhere  else  can  be  found  whole  groups  of  mountains  holding 

129 


130 


THE  GREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 


their  heads  up  to  fourteen  thousand  feet,  and  having  great  valleys 
almost  at  timber-line. 

The  old  maps  bear  the  name  Sierra  Madre,  to  designate  these 
heights,  whose  snowy  crests  filled  the  northern  horizon  and  forbade  the 
advance  of  Spanish  exploration.  The  word  admits  of  various  applica- 
tions, but  one  which  might  well  have  been  in  the  mind  of  him  who  first 
used  it,  is  that  this  vast  highland  is  the  mighty  Mother  of  our  rivers. 
From  its  western  slopes  flow  the  rivulets  that  unite  to  make  the  Gun- 
nison  and  Grand,— one  of  the  forks  of  the  Rio  Colorado.  Easterly,  but 
on  its  northern  face,  bubbles  the  great  spring  which  forms  the  very 
source  of  the  Rio  Grande  del  Norte.  Every  gulch  upon  its  southern 
breast  feeds  the  rushing  streams  that  furnish  to  the  Rio  San  Juan  all 
the  water  it  gets  for  its  long  journey  through  the  wilderness. 

Silverton  is  forty  five  miles  due  north  from  Durango;  and  after 
leaving  the  latter  point  the  road  leads  straight  up  the  Animas  valley, 
here  broad  and  fertile,  with  green  rounded  hills  sweeping  up  on  each 
side  Now  and  then  these  exchange  their  softly  curving  outlines  for 
a  bluff-like  form,  exposing  long  van-colored  strata  of  cretaceous  sand- 
stones, unbroken,  but  inclined  upward  toward  the  north,  where  their 
beds  have  been  gently  lifted  by  a  slow  upheaval  of  the  mountains. 
There  is  much  color  in  this  part  of  the  landscape,  especially  now, 
when  the  rains  of  August  have  put  a  spring  like  freshness  of  tint  upon 
everything  verdant.  The  low,  treeless  benches  between  the  track  and 

the  foot  of  the  hills,  the  open 
places  beside  the  river,  and  the 
pasture-lands  are  all  glorious 
in  a  dense  mass  of  sun-flowers, 
which  stand  knee-high,  with 
blossoms  scarcely  larger  than 
a  dollar.  Thus  the  outlines  of 
the  ridges  running  in  endless 
succession  down  to  the  water's 
edge,  are  defined  in  gilded 
ranks,  that  rise  behind  one 
another  for  miles  as  you  pro- 
ceed. The  whole  foreground 
is  enchromed ;  and  this  valley 
is  the  veritable  home  of  Clytie. 
A  belt  of  cedars  and  dense 
shrubs  stands  along  the  base 
of  the  mountains;  then  per- 
haps a  bare  steep  space  of  uni- 
form dull  green  displays  the 
tone  of  mingled  bunch  grass 
EVA  CLIFF.  and  sage-brush;  next  will 


LANDSCAPE  GARDENING. 


131 


GARFIELD    MEMORIAL 


appear  a  wall  of  red  sand- 
stone set  at  an  angle,  and 
contrasting  richly  in  shades 
varying  from  dull  vermillion 
to  deep  maroon,  with  the 
ochre-yellow,  white  or  blu- 
ish gray  of  the  rocks  sur- 
mounting it.  Occasionally 
these  capping  -  stones  show 
themselves  in  long,  well-ex- 
posed strata,  slanting  to  the 
horizon ;  sometimes  here  and 
there  they  simply  crop  out  in 
water-worn  crags;  again  they 
will  be  lost  altogether  under 
the  fringing  shrubbery  that 
overhangs  the  low  forehead 
of  the  bluff.  It  is  fifteen 
miles  before  the  valley  nar- 
rows in,  and  throughout  this 
whole  extent  of  bottom-land 
the  ground  is  tilled  from  the 
river-brink  to  the  stony  up- 
lands on  either  side,  the  fall  of  the  water  being  so  great  that  irrigation 
is  easy.  Ranches  succeed  each  other  without  any  waste  land  between, 
and  I  do  not  know  any  portion  of  the  Far  West  (this  side  of  Salt  Lake 
basin)  where  the  farms  seem  as  thrifty  or  the  houses  so  comfortable 
and  pleasant.  Every  sort  of  grain  is  raised,  and  the  yield  to  an  acre  is 
large,  as  must  always  be  the  case  where  the  soil  is  rich,  the  weather 
uniform,  and  the  ranchman  able  to  control  his  water-supply  and  apply 
it  as  he  sees  need.  Garden-produce  is  much  attended  to,  also,  for  there 
is  more  profit  in  it  than  even  in  grain.  Hay  and  its  substitutes,  alfalfa 
and  lucerne,  take  high  rank  in  the  list,  and  of  the  two  last  named  it  is 
customary  to  cut  three  crops  annually.  In  the  winter  of  1880-81  baled 
hay  was  worth  $120  and  $140  a  ton  in  Durango,  while  one  man  told  me 
that  it  cost  him  almost  $500  a  ton  to  get  a  supply  to  his  mine  in  an 
emergency.  In  those  days  the  farmer  had  as  good  a  mine  as  any  on  the 
sources  of  his  river.  Such  prices  will  probably  never  prevail  again,  now 
that  the  railway  brings  hay  and  feed  from  Kansas;  but  the  resident  pro- 
ducer can  still  compete  with  import  figures  at  a  handsome  profit. 

Two  or  three  miles  above  Durango  we  pass  Animas  City,  a  small 
village  of  unpainted  houses,  which  had  an  existence  and  an  exciting  his*- 
tory  long  years  before  its  prosperous  neighbor  was  dreamed  of  ;  and  six 
miles  farther  come  upon  Trimble  Springs,  directly  at  the  foot  of  the 
high  bank  which  here  confronts  the  western  side  of  the  valley.  It  is  a 


132  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

singular  coincidence,  perhaps,  that  within  easy  distance  and  access  of  all 
the  larger  towns  or  population  centers  in  Colorado,  mineral  springs  are 
found,  whose  virtues  are  sufficiently  marked  to  warrant  development, 
thus  supplying  each  neighborhood  its  own  sanitary  as  well  as  pleasure 
resort.  Trimble  Springs  occupies  this  relation  to  both  Durango  and  Sil- 
verton,  and  is  greatly  frequented  by  the  dwellers  in  these  towns,  besides 
numerous  visitors  from  more  remote  points.  A  capacious  hotel,  of 
attractive  exterior,  and  admirably  arranged  and  furnished  within,  affords 
the  comforts  of  a  home.  Near  by  is  the  bath-house,  one  hundred  feet  in 
length,  and  equipped  in  the  most  approved  modern  style,  with  all  varie- 
ties of  baths.  The  temperature  of  the  water  as  it  comes  from  the  ground 
is  126°  F.,  and  iron,  soda  and  magnesia  are  the  predominating  qualities, 
in  the  order  named,  while  there  is  also  much  free  carbolic  acid  gas.  The 
record  of  cures  effected  here  contains  many  cases  of  rheumatism,  liver 
and  kidney  complaints,  and  chronic  blood  and  skin  diseases;  while  it  is 
averred  that  the  use  of  the  waters  will  entirely  eradicate  the  tobacco  habit. 
The  temperature  is  equable,  and  the  surroundings  romantic.  The  river 
supplies  excellent  trout-fishing,  and  the  hunter  will  find  an  abundance  of 
game  in  the  adjacent  foothills.  The  place  must  grow  in  popularity,  as 
it  becomes  more  widely  known;  for,  as  the  Madame  declared,  "  it  excels 
the  White  Mountains  in  scenic  features,  not  to  mention  the  superiority 
of  its  thermal  founts,  and  the  charm  of  its  climate,  over  any  eastern  sani- 
tarium." We  marveled  at  the  stateliness  of  her  phrases,  but  couldn't 
dispute  the  facts. 

Just  at  the  head  of  the  farming  lands,  stands  the  little  settlement  of 
Hermosa.  I  had  been  there  once  before  this  more  auspicious  advent, 
after  two  days  of  dreadf ully  weary  travel  over  a  mountain  trail,  and  had 
come  down  into  the  valley  only  to  find  our  much-doubted  warnings 
verified,  and  these  cabins  all  deserted.  We  knew  what  it  meant,  but 
made  haste  to  feast  upon  the  green  corn,  and  tomatoes,  melons  and  roots 
of  every  sort,  which  the  panic  stricken  ranchmen  had  left  behind. 
Stuffing  every  available  bag  and  pocket  full,  we  went  on  to  a  camping- 
spot,  and  deliberated  while  we  cooked  our  princely  dinner. 

It  was  certain  that  Indians  had  driven  these  settlers  away,  yet  there 
were  no  signs  of  hostility  apparent.  There  were  five  of  us,  and  we  had 
proposed  going  two  hundred  miles  directly  into  the  Indian  country. 
Should  we  proceed,  or  turn  back  and  abandon  our  exploration?  Per- 
haps if  we  had  possessed  only  our  customary  bacon  and  beans  we  might 
have  halted ;  but  the  luscious  corn  and  melons  turned  the  scale,  and  we 
resolved  to  go  forward.  Had  we  not  done  so  we  should  have  missed  the 
rare  satisfaction  of  being  the  first  to  tell  the  story  of  the  Cliff-Dwellers  of 
the  Mancos  and  McElmo.  In  the  nine  years  which  since  have  worn 
their  footprints  into  the  trail  of  events,  little  change  had  come  to  this 
particular  spot;  and  I  was  glad  of  it,  for  it  left  in  my  memory  a 
landmark  which  was  lost  elsewhere  under  the  obliterating  hand  of  an 


AMONG   GLORIOUS  SCENES.  133 

eager  civilization,  that  has  tamed  the  primitive  wildness  we  rode  over 
irTl874. 

Above  Hermosa,  the  valley  contracts  rapidly,  and  the  wide  fields 
give  place  to  groves  of  pine,  free  of  underbrush,  through  which  are 
caught  glimpses  of  the  bright  stream  sinking  away  from  us  on  the  right. 
The  railway  commences  to  ascend  the  western  hills,  carving  its  way 
along  their  face,  and  tracing  their  shallow  undulations  by  sweeping 
curves.  In  places  the  sharp  stones  blasted  from  the  roadbed  cover  the 
steep  and  forbidding  descent  for  hundreds  of  feet  below  us.  Now  the 
river  has  disappeared,  though  a  rocky  ledge  marks  its  canon  confines, 
the  intervening  space  is  wild  and  broken,  and  the  pines  are  denser,  with 
great  blackened  trunks.  Presently  we  emerge  into  a  tiny  park,  and 
Rockwood  is  reached.  The  location  is  secluded  yet  picturesque.  Lofty 
cliffs  and  precipitous  mountains  hem  it  in  on  all  sides,  and  the  meadows 
in  the  small  depression  beside  the  town  are  fringed  with  trees,  which  are 
tall  and  imposing,  and  yet  look  more  like  dwarfed  bushes  against  the 
massive  background  of  towering  bluffs.  A  lively  village  has  grown  up 
here,  whose  principal  stimulus  exists  in  the  fact  that  it  is  the  forwarding 
point  for  the  extensive  mining  district  lying  between  the  La  Plata  and 
San  Miguel  ranges.  Rico,  the  most  important  camp  in  that  section,  is 
connected  with  Rockwood  by  a  good  road,  thirty-two  miles  in  length, 
over  which  stages  and  supply-trains  make  daily  trips. 

Before  leaving  Rockwood  the  train-men  are  observed  to  examine 
critically  the  wheels,  trucks  and  couplings  of  our  cars,  and  we  know  that 
something  unusual  ahead  suggests  the  precaution. 

Moving  slowly  through  a  deeply  shaded  cutting,  a  sharp  outward 
curve  is  rounded,  and  what  a  vision  greets  our  astonished  eyes  !  The 
most  magnificent  of  all  the  canons  of  the  Rockies  !  The  mountain  pre- 
sents a  red  granite  front,  perpendicular  for  nearly  a  thousand  feet,  and 
midway  between  top  and  bottom  has  been  chiseled  from  the  solid  rock  a 
long  balcony  or  shelf,  just  wide  enough  for  the  track.  From  far  below 
comes  to  our  ears  the  roar  of  driven  waters,  and  with  bated  breath  we 
gaze  fearfully  over  the  edge,  so  perilously  near,  down,  down  to  where  a 
bright  green  torrent  urges  its  impatient  way  between  walls  whose  jetty 
hue  no  sun-ray  relieves.  Overhead  the  beetling  precipice  towers  omin- 
ously, as  if  about  to  crush  the  pigmies  who  had  dared  to  invade  its 
storm-swept  breast.  In  its  shadow  all  is  silent,  weird  and  awful. 

The  opposite  side  of  the  canon,  scarcely  the  toss  of  a  pebble  away, 
rises  almost  vertically,  a  smooth,  unscalable  wall,  that  gleams  like  brightly 
polished  bronze,  but  is  striped  with  upright  lines  of  shadow,  so  that  it 
recalls  Scott's  picture  of  Melrose  Abbey  under  the  harvest-moon  :  — 
"  And  buttress  and  buttress  alternately 
Seemed  carved  In  ebon  and  Ivory." 

Higher  up,  the  wall  breaks  away  into  receding  hills,  on  whose  grassy 
and  wooded  slopes  the  sunshine  plays  hide  and  seek.     A  little  above  the 


134  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

gorge  we  can  discern  where  the  track  turns  to  the  right  and  crosses  on  a 
long,  low  trestle,  the  alcove  in  the  canon,  while  in  the  loftier  heights  be- 
yond, the  verdure-clad  mountains  are  seen  rising  into  shapely  cones  and 
coquetting  with  the  fleecy  clouds.  Such  were  the  elements  of  the  sub- 
lime view  in  the  Canon  of  the  Rio  de  las  Animas  Perdidas  caught  and 
perpetuated  by  our  Artist. 

Beyond  the  opening  the  defile  again  closes  into  so  narrow  a  compass 
that  the  pines  and  spruces  clinging  precariously  to  the  cliffs  mingle  in  a 
dim  arch  that  spans  the  chasm.  Again  the  train  is  creeping  cautiously 
along  a  dizzy  brink,  while  an  hundred  feet  below  the  pent-up  flood  is 
forcing  its  passage  through  the  unworn  and  pitilessly  hard  rocks.  The 
water  is  still  green  as  emerald,  and  has  the  same  luminous  quiver  and 
transparence  of  verdancy  which  the  gem  possesses.  What  gives  it  that 
vivid  color  here  in  this  dark  recess? — anything  but  the  fact  that  it  is 
surcharged  with  the  air  caught  in  its  turbulence?  We  can  see  great  neb- 
ula3  of  submerged  bubbles  racing  by,  meteor-like,  too  swiftly  to  rise  at 
once  to  the  glassy  surface.  Niagara,  below  the  Falls,  has  that  same 
wonderful,  deep  green  tint.  Imprison  Niagara,  or  only  so  much  of  it  as 
you  could  span  with  a  stone's  throw;  contract  its  upright,  volcanic  walls 
into  a  crevice  sixty  feet  wide — turn  the  river  up  on  edge,  as  it  were — 
and  send  it  down  that  black,  resounding  flume,  with  all  the  impetus  of 
a  twenty-mile  race, — then  you  have  an  image  of  this  "River  of  Lost 
Souls,"  in  the  wildest  portion  of  its  marvelous  channel. 

The  building  of  the  railway,  for  the  first  mile  north  of  Rockwood, 
exceeded  in  its  daring  any  work  even  in  the  famous  Grand  Canon  of  the 
Arkansas.  The  engineer  who  had  charge  of  the  construction  showed 
the  Madame  a  picture  one  of  his  surveyors  drew  of  the  manner  in  which 
the  location  was  made.  Evidently  the  draughtsman  took  his  observa- 
tions from  the  water's  edge,  where  his  vista  was  between  two  walls  of 
natural  masonry,  and  was  limited  by  the  side  of  the  gorge  which  bent 
sharply  there.  This  wall  was  vertical  and  smooth,  for  almost  a  thou- 
sand feet  from  its  base.  From  that  height  were  seen  hanging  spider- 
web-like  ropes,  down  which  men,  seeming  not  much  larger  than  ants, 
were  slowly  descending,  while  others  (perched  upon  narrow  shelves  in 
the  face  of  the  cliffs,  or  in  trifling  niches  from  which  their  only  egress 
was  by  the  dangling  ropes),  sighted  through  their  theodolites  from  one 
ledge  to  the  other,  and  directed  where  to  place  the  dabs  of  paint  indicat- 
ing the  intended  roadbed.  Similarly  suspended,  the  workmen  followed 
the  engineers,  drilling  holes  for  blasting,  and  tumbling  down  loose  frag- 
ments, until  they  had  won  a  foothold  for  working  in  a  less  extraordinary 
manner.  Ten  months  of  steady  labor  were  spent  on  this  canon-cutting, — 
months  of  work  on  the  brink  of  yawning  abysses  and  in  the  midst  of 
falling  rocks,  yet  not  one  serious  accident  occurred.  "Often  it  seemed 
as  though  another  hair's  distance  or  straw's  weight  would  have  sent  me 
headlong  over  the  edge,"  said  the  chief  engineer,  and  no  doubt  all  his 


THREADING   THE  NEEDLES.  135 

subordinates  could  say  the  same.  The  expense  attending  such  construc- 
tion was  of  necessity  great,  the  outlay  for  this  single  mile  aggregating 
about  $140,000. 

Crossing  the  handsome  bridge  shown  in  our  sketch,  the  course  of  the 
road  thereafter  is  generally  on  the  eastern  bank  of  the  stream,  although 
it  is  recrossed  a  few  times  where,  by  this  expedient,  expensive  excavation 
could  be  avoided.  The  water  gradually  rises  to  the  level  of  the  track, 
which  is  henceforth  rarely  a  rod  above  it.  Often  in  making  a  curve, 
one  obtains  a  charming  view  up  the  river,  with  its  gracefully  drooping 
borders  of  willows  and  aspens.  Everywhere  the  mountains  are  close  at 
hand  on  either  side,  and  a  goat  could  scarcely  climb  their  inaccessible 
steeps. 

Presently  a  halt  is  made,  and  as  we  alight,  such  a  picture  is  pre- 
sented as  it  may  never  be  our  fortune  to  again  behold.  The  canon  is 
compressed  into  a  narrow  fissure  among  mountains  of  supreme  height, 
whose  fronts  are  in  unbroken  shadow.  At  the  right  a  waterfall  comes 
leaping  down,  to  join  the  foam-flecked  river.  In  the  foreground  great 
banks  of  moss  sustain  gay  flowers,  while  over  them  nod  the  stately  pines, 
with  swaying  vines,  keeping  time  to  the  fretful  murmur  of  the  water. 
Between  and  far  beyond  the  clear-cut  sky  lines  of  nearer  peaks,  The 
Needles  lift  their  splintered  pinnacles  into  the  regions  of  perpetual  snow, 
wrapped  in  the  gauze  of  a  wondrous  atmosphere,  and  their  crests  glow- 
ing as  with  a  golden  crown. 

Continuing  northward,  we  speedily  enter  Elk  Park,  a  little  valley  in 
the  midst  of  the  range,  with  sunlit  meadows  and  groups  of  giant  pines. 
As  we  turn  from  the  park,  a  backward  glance  discloses  the  subject  of 
our  frontispiece,  —  Garfield  Peak, — lifting  its  symmetrical  summit  a 
mile  above  the  track,  a  peerless  landmark  among  its  fellows. 

Onward,  the  everlasting  hills  are  marshalled,  and  among  them  for 
miles  the  canon  maintains  its  grandeur.  Frequent  cascades,  glistening 
like  burnished  silver  in  the  sunlight,  leap  from  crag  to  crag  for  a  thou- 
sand feet  down  the  mountain  sides,  to  lose  themselves  in  the  Animas. 
Thus  grandly  ends  this  glorious  ride,  and  we  sweep  out  into  a  green 
park,  and  are  at  Silverton,  in  the  heart  of  Silver  San  Juan. 


XIII 

SILVER   SAN  JUAN. 


The  height,  the  space,  the  gloom,  the  glory  . 
A  mount  of  marble,  a  hundred  spires  ! 


—  TENNYSON. 


N  introducing  some  account  of  the  southern  side  of  the 
San  Juan  mountains,  as  a  district  producing  precious 
metals,  it  may  be  said,  in  the  first  place,  that  it  is  a 
section  in  which  productive  mining  has  only  very  lately 
been  prosecuted  in  earnest.  Its  prospects  are  well- 
founded  ;  but  almost  up  to  the  present  time,  its  inac- 
cessibility and  other  disadvantages  have  been  obstacles  to  a  develop- 
ment that,  under  more  favorable  conditions,  would  doubtless  have 
occurred.  The  scrutiny  to  which  it  has  been  subjected  by  sharp  and 
knowing  eyes,  and  such  digging  as  has  been  done, —  by  no  means  a  small 
amount  in  the  aggregate, —  exhibit  the  fact  that  the  region  is  remarka- 
ble for  its  general  richness.  That  is,  profitable  ores  are  to  be  had  nearly 
everywhere  within  its  limits  ;  hardly  a  hill  can  be  mentioned  where  veins 
carrying  mineral  do  not  abound.  Every  square  mile  of  its  fifty  miles 
square  may  safely  be  assumed  to  hold  one  or  more  good  mines.  It  is 


NEAR    THE    PINOS- CHAMA    SUMMIT. 


A  GEOLOGICAL  DISCUSSION.  137 

doubtful  whether  anywhere  else  in  the  world  there  is  so  large  a  territory 
over  which  the  most  valuable  metals  are  so  generally  diffused. 

"Geologically,"  we  are  told  on  high  authority,  "the  veins  of  the 
district  are  very  young,  probably  having  been  formed  at  the  close  of  the 
cretaceous  or  the  beginning  of  the  tertiary  period.  The  enormous 
eruptions  of  the  trachytic  lava  cover  a  continuous  area  of  more  than  five 
thousand  square  miles.  Stress  has  been  laid  upon  the  impregnation 
with  mineral  matter  of  certain  volcanic  strata, — a  phenomenon  that 
occurs  throughout  a  large  tract  of  country.  This  shows  that  at  the  time 
of  the  eruptions  such  conditions  existed  as  were  favorable  to  the  forma- 
tion of  that  class  of  minerals  generally  termed  ores.  It  is  furthermore  to 
be  observed  that  these  impregnations  occur  mainly  in  the  younger  strata. 
Although  the  inference  can  not  be  drawn  that  the  fissures  were  formed 
at  the  same  time,  or  shortly  after  the  deposition  of  the  trachytic  lava,  it 
is  allowable  to  assume  that  at  such  a  period  the  material  for  filling  these 
fissures  was  existing  near  the  locality  where  but  lately  so  thorough  an 
impregnation  had  taken  place.  The  fact  that  the  fissures  extend  at  a 
number  of  points,  downward,  through  the  older  metamorphic  rocks, 
makes  it  improbable  that  they  should  have  been  formed  by  contraction 
of  the  cooling  masses.  Singular  as  it  may  seem,  these  lodes  are  devoid 
of  that  which  is  usually  classed  as  surface-ore.  Immediately  from  the 
surface  the  perfectly  fresh  minerals  are  taken  out.  The  gangue  is  hard 
and  solid.  An  exception  is  made,  of  course,  although  only  to  a  slight 
extent,  by  pyrite,  which  decomposes  very  readily  when  exposed  to  the 
action  of  atmospheric  influences.  This  characteristic  may  be  explained 
in  various  ways, — by  the  rapid  decomposition  and  breaking  off  of  the 
wall-rocks,  carrying  with  them  portions  of  the  gangue  and  ore ;  by  the 
less  intense  effect  of  atmospheric  agencies ;  by  the  character  of  the  min- 
erals composing  the  ore,  and  by  the  comparatively  short  time  that  these 
fissures  have  been  filled.  The  latter  view  is  the  one  that  would  appear 
as  the  most  acceptable. 

"A  difficult  question  arises,  when  a  decision  is  to  be  made,  as  to  the 
causes  that  have  produced  the  formation  of  the  fissures  that  were  after- 
ward filled.  Accepting  the  theory  that  volcanic  or  plutonic  earthquakes 
have  probably  produced  the  larger  number  of  all  lode  systems, — and 
such  we  have  in  this  case,  it  will  be  necessary  to  find  whence  came  the 
requisite  force.  Along  the  highest  portion  of  the  quartzite  mountains 
we  have  an  anticlinal  axis  which  can  be  traced  westward  for  nearly  forty 
miles,  an  upheaval  that  must  have  a  very  perceptible  effect  on  regions 
adjoining.  The  idea  at  first  presented  itself  that  this  might  have  given 
rise  to  the  formation  of  the  fissures,  but  evidence  subsequently  discov- 
ered demonstrates  that  long  before  the  eruption  of  the  trachyte,  this  dis- 
turbance had  occurred. 

"  About  twenty  miles  west  from  the  center  of  the  mining  region  is  a 
series  of  isolated  groups  of  volcanic  peaks.  The  highest  one  of  these, 


138  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

Mount  Wilson,  reaches  an  elevation  of  14,285  feet  above  sea  level,  or 
about  5,000  feet  above  the  valley.  Lithologically  these  groups  must  be 
considered  younger  than  the  lode-bearing  rock  of  the  Animas,  and  must 
therefore  have  become  eruptive  later.  It  seems  quite  possible  that  the 
disturbance  produced  by  these  eruptions  may  have  resulted  in  the  forma- 
tion of  the  present  fissures,  which  subsequently  were  filled  from  that 
source  which  supplied  so  much  mineral  matter  to  other  neighboring 
rocks  in  the  form  of  impregnation." 

This  ore,  then,  may  be  set  down  as  principally  galena,  —  a  lead 
ore  of  silver,  frequently  enriched  by  gray  copper  (tetrahedrite).  The 
high  percentage  of  lead  makes  smelting  the  most  rational .  process  of 
treatment,  and  they  are  generally  to  be  classified  as  smelting  ores. 

In  several  localities,  however,  of  which  Parrott  City  and  Mount 
Sneffels  are  chief  examples,  rich  ores  of  silver  are  found,  nearly  or  quite 
devoid  of  lead.  These  come  mainly  into  the  group  of  antimonial  ores, 
with  chlorides  and  sulphides  also.  Popularly  these  ores, — barring  the 
chloride, —  are  termed  "brittle  silver,"  and  on  account  of  the  absence  of 
lead,  they  are  unfit  for  smelting,  but  must  eventually  be  treated  by  a 
milling  process  in  which  the  pulp  is  subjected  to  the  action  of  mercury 
in  amalgamating  pans,  where  the  silver  is  separated  from  the  quartz 
and  collected  by  the  quicksilver.  Antimonial  ores,  prior  to  amalgama- 
tion, will  require  chlorination,  that  is,  roasting  with  salt,  as  is  done  at 
the  Ontario  mine,  Utah  ;  while  the  chlorides  and  sulphides  of  silver  can 
be  treated  directly,  without  roasting,  as  at  the  mines  of  the  Comstock 
lode,  Nevada. 

The  foregoing  remarks  apply  generally  to  all  of  the  mining  districts 
mentioned  in  the  present  chapter  ;  and  their  uniform  nature  is  readily 
explained  by  the  fact  that  the  whole  neighborhood  is  of  the  same 
geological  age,  character  and  origin. 

The  mines  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  Silverton,  my  starting  point, 
are  situated  upon,  or  rather  in,  the  lofty  mountains  which  hem  in  the 
little  park.  Southward  of  the  town,  easily  recognized  by  its  cloven 
peak,  stands  the  Sultan,  thirteen  thousand  five  hundred  feet  in  altitude. 
Its  most  noteworthy  mines  are  the  "North  Star,"  "Empire,"  "Jennie 
Parker,"  and  "Belcher."  Tower  and  Round  mountains,  next  north- 
ward, contain  several  ledges  of  low-grade  galena  ores  of  silver. 

Crossing  the  Animas  to  the  eastern  side,  King  Solomon  wears  as  the 
central  jewel  in  his  crown  another  "North  Star."  It  stands  upon  his 
very  brow, — one  of  the  loftiest  silver  deposits  in  the  world,  almost  four- 
teen thousand  feet  above  the  restless  surf  of  the  Pacific.  Here,  too,  the 
ore  is  galena  and  gray  copper  of  extraordinarily  high  grade.  A  marvel- 
ous trail  has  been  cut  through  the  woods  and  then  nicked  into  the  almost 
solid  rock  of  the  bald  mountain-crest,  far  above  timber-line,  or  built  out 
upon  balconies  of  logs,  along  which  burros  carry  to  the  mine  all  its  sup- 
plies, and  bring  down  its  product.  On  King  Solomon  are  several  other 


THE  OTHER  SIDE  OF  THE  YEAR.  139 

noteworthy  claims,  such  as  the  "  Shenandoah,"  "  Eclipse,"  and  "Royal 
Tiger." 

Nothing  but  a  bird  or  a  mountain  sheep  would  be  likely  to  attempt 
the  almost  vertical  wall  rising  from  the  southern  side  of  Arastra  gulch 
to  culminate  in  the  spires  of  Hazelton  mountain.  Coming  out  into  the 
valley,  however,  a  road  is  to  be  found  zigzagging  its  way  up  the  slope 
leading  to  the  principal  mines,  pierced  only  a  trifle  below  the  border  of 
stunted  spruce-woods.  Very  likely  Dr.  Holland  was  correct  in  his 
poetico-mineralogical  statement  that 

"  Gold-flakes  gleam  in  dim  defiles 
And  lonely  gorges  ; " 

but  it  is  certain  that  in  the  San  Juan,  silver  resides  upon  the  loftiest 
ledges,  where  the  shadowy  peaks  form  "bridal  of  the  earth  and  sky." 

The  group  of  mines  to  which  I  have  referred  are  known  as  the 
"  Aspen,"  consolidating  several  names  of  properties  under  the  owner- 
ship of  the  San  Juan  and  New  York  Mining  and  Smelting  company, 
which  is  also  proprietor  of  the  smelter  at  Durango. 

Sitting  in  a  cozy  office  one  evening,  with  two  or  three  pleasant 
visitors,  the  conversation  fell  upon  the  other  side  of  the  year,  for  the 
last  man  came  in  rubbing  his  knuckles  as  though  it  were  cold. 

' '  Ha.  ha  !  "  laughed  the  merry  Madame,  glancing  out  at  the  ashy- 
gray  peaks,  which  were  wan  in  the  new  moonlight  with  autumn's  first 
white  dusting ;  and,  as  she  laughed,  she  quoted 

"  Once  he  sang  of  summer, 
Nothing  but  the  summer; 
Now  he  sings  of  winter, 
Of  winter  dark  and  drear; 
Just  because  a  snow-flake 
Has  fallen  on  his  forehead, 
He  must  go  and  fancy 
'T  is  winter  all  the  year." 

"  Well,  it  is,  pretty  nearly,"  comes  the  quick  rejoinder.  "I  have 
seen  it  snow  every  day  during  the  last  week  of  August,  and  the  seasons 
which  do  not  give  us  frosts  in  July  are  rare.  When  I  first  came  to 
Baker's  park  I  asked  a  miner  what  sort  of  a  climate  reigned  here.  '  It's 
nine  months  winter  and  three  months  mighty  late  in  the  fall  ! '  was  his 
laconic  report,  and  I  have  found  it  a  true  one. 

"  You  see,"  he  continued,  "winter  really  begins  about  the  firsi  of 
November.  The  superintendent  who  hasn't  got  his  supplies  at  his  mine- 
house  by  that  time  had  better  hurry,  for  some  morning  a  storm  will 
begin  which  will  drop  three  or  four  feet  of  snow  on  a  level,  and  fill  all 
the  small  gulches  full.  Then  his  chance  of  packing  anything  up  the 
mountain  is  gone.  In  1880,  several  foremen  were  surprised  in  that  way, 
but  the  first  storm  came  remarkably  early, —  the  8th  of  October, —  and 


140  THE  GRE8T  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

on  the  llth  the  snow  was  five  feet  deep.    Later  there  was  an  open  spell, 
though,  when  deficiencies  could  be  made  up,  but  that  was  only  luck." 

"  But,"  said  the  Madame,  solicitously,  "how  can  men  live  in  those 
little  cabins,  away  up  there,  all  through  the  terrible  winter  ?  I  should 
think  they  would  freeze,  or  that  avalanches  would  sweep  them  away." 

"Oh,  both  those  misfortunes  can  be  guarded  against.  The  houses 
are  very  tight  and  snug,  and  fuel  is  carefully  stored  away.  Then,  too, 
the  work  is  carried  on  underground,  where  the  temperature  is  practically 
changeless  the  year  'round,  and  the  men  have  little  occasion  to  go  out  of 
doors  unless  they  wish  to,  for  the  entrance  to  the  mine  is  under  the  shel- 
ter of  the  house-roof.  Then,  too,  the  fact  is,  that  bleak  and  thoroughly 
arctic  as  it  looks  the  mercury  will  not  fall  so  low,  or  at  least  will  not 
average  as  low,  up  at  timber  line  on  Sultan,  as  it  will  down  here  in  town. 
I  /suppose  the  excess  of  dampness  in  the  valley  makes  the  difference, 
which  is  more  apparent  to  our  feelings  than  even  to  the  thermometer." 

"But  the  snow-slides  are  sometimes  terrific,  are  they  not?"  is 
asked. 

"  Terrific  ?  I  assure  you  that  word  is  not  half  strong  enough  to 
express  it.  When  you  go  up  to  Cunningham  gulch,  and  over  into  the 
other  valleys,  you  will  see  the  sides  of  the  mountains,  in  certain  places, 
utterly  bare  of  trees  two  or  three  thousand  feet  below  the  limit  of  their 
growth.  That  is  where  they  have  been  swept  away  and  kept  down  by 
constantly  recurring  avalanches  of  snow,  which  in  many  parts  of  these 
ranges  are  liable  to  slip  down  in  masses  perhaps  a  mile  square  and  any- 
where from  ten  to  a  hundred  feet  deep,  bringing  rocks  and  everything 
else  with  them.  Of  course,  no  sapling  could  stand  such  a  scraping, — 
nothing  can.  I  was  in  a  slide  once,  and  I  can  appreciate  it,  I  assure 
you." 

"  You  were  ! "  exclaims  the  Madame,  round-eyed  at  this.  "  I  thought 
you  said  nothing  could  stand  a  snow-slide." 

"  I  didn't  attempt  to.  I  went  with  it,  and  was  carried  down  the 
mountain-side  head  first, —  most  of  the  time  under  flying  clouds  of  snow- 
dust,  until  I  plunged — fortunately  feet  down — into  the  compact  mass 
at  the  bottom.  Then  a  friend  followed  and  dug  me  out,  happening,  by 
good  luck,  to  begin  his  prospecting  in  just  the  right  place." 

"But  weren't  you  smothered  ;  and  how  did  you  feel  going 
down  ? " 

' '  Very  nearly  smothered  ;  as  to  the  feeling,  it  was  merely  a  confused 
sense  of  noise,  darkness,  nothingness,  nowhereness,  and  the  sudden  end 
of  all  things.  Can  you  understand  such  a  combination  of  sensa- 
tions ? 

"  Here  in  the  park,"  our  friend  continued,  "we  don't  mind  the  win- 
ter much.  We  have  enough  people  to  keep  one  another  company,  and 
we  have  no  end  of  fun  snowshoeing." 

"  What  sort  of  snow-shoes  ?  "  I  break  the  silence  to  ask. 


SOMETHING  ABOUT  8XOW- SHOES. 


141 


"The  Norwegian  skidors, — thin  boards,  ten  or  twelve  feet  long,  and 
slightly  turned  up  in  front.  There  is  an  arrangement  of  straps  about  a 
third  of  the  way  back  from  the  front  end,  and  that's  all  there  is  of  it, 
though  it's  a  good  deal  if  you  don't  know  how  to  manipulate  —  " 

"  Populate,  would  hit  it  closer,  wouldn't  it  ?  " 

"  Suit  yourself  ;  you  won't  choose  your  language  so  carefully  when 
you  suddenly  find  yourself  filled  full  of  snow,  after  an  involuntary 
header,  and  one  or  both  of  your  snowshoes  going  on  down  the  moun- 


CHIEFS   OF   THE    SOUTHERN    UTES. 

tain  like  a  race-horse.  If  you  stay  here  a  winter,  though,  you  must 
learn,  unless  you  are  willing  to  remain  cooped  up  in  your  cabin  from 
November  till  May.  There  is  no  other  possible  way  of  getting  about. 
Before  the  railway  came,  all  our  mail  was  snowshoed  in,  and  it  was 
very  likely  to  be  delayed  two  or  three  weeks  at  a  time.  Then  we  have 
debating  societies.  '  Resolved,  That  a  burro  has  no  rights  a  miner  is 
bound  to  respect,'  was  our  first  question  one  winter  —  and  parties  and 
balls.  Formerly,  in  the  older  communities,  merchants  could  easily  cal- 
culate the  extent  of  their  sales  during  the  cold  months,  but  those  in 
the  new  camps,  the  first  winter,  sometimes  saw  hard,  times. 


142  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

11  We  came  very  near  a  famine  in  Rico,  the  first  winter,"  our  visitor 
continues.  "Nobody  could  tell  just  how  many  people  would  stay,  the 
winter  closed  in  unexpectedly  early,  and,  all  together,  before  New  Year's 
day,  it  began  to  be  whispered  that  the  supply  of  '  grub  '  was  short.  As 
fast  as  the  stores  diminished,  prices  went  up,  until  they  were  nearly  fabu- 
lous. Everybody  was  on  short  rations  alike.  The  hotel  would  give 
beds,  but  no  board.  One  day  a  miner  came  in  from  over  the  range  on 
snowshoes,  and  reached  the  hotel  nearly  dead  with  hunger  and  exhaus- 
tion. Pfeiffer  took  pity  on  him,  as  an  exceptional  case.  '  I  gifs  you 
your  supper,'  he  said,  '  und  a  ped,  und  I  gifs  you  one  meal  to-morrow ; 
after  that  you  must  rustle  for  yourself.'  Flour,  bacon,  ham,  sugar, 
coffee,  everything,  even  tobacco,  gave  out  in  the  shops  ;  and  had  it  not 
been  that  one  of  the  mines  which  had  laid  in  a  large  stock  of  food,  shut 
down  and  so  sold  out,  it  is  probable  that  the  whole  camp  would  have 
been  obliged  to  have  dragged  themselves  through  the  depth  of  a  hun- 
dred miles  of  February  snows,  out  into  the  lower  -country.  Comical 
stones  are  told  of  how  the  first  burro-train  load  of  provisions  was  dis- 
tributed." 

But  in  spite  of  all  this  isolation,  this  necessity  for  elaborate  prepara- 
tion, the  arctic  altitude  and  polar  length  of  the  "season  of  snows  and 
sins,"  as  Swinburne  phrases  it,  the  winter  is  really  the  best  time  in 
which  to  work  these  silver  mines,  and  the  impression  that  the  San  Juan 
district  must  be  abandoned  for  half  the  year,  is  entirely  wrong,  when 
any  thorough  system  of  operations  has  been  projected.  Well  sheltered 
and  abundantly  fed,  removed  from  the  temptations  of  the  bar-room, 
which  can  only  be  got  at  by  a  frightfully  fatiguing  and  perilous  trip  on 
snow-shoes,  and  settled  to  the  fact  that  a  whole  winter's  work  lies  ahead, 
there  is  no  season  when  such  steady  progress  is  possible,  either  in  "  dead- 
work"  development  or  in  taking  out  ore  preparatory  to  shipment  in  the 
spring. 

Two  little  streams  come  down  to  the  Animas  at  Silverton — Mineral 
creek  and  Cement  creek — the  former  passing  between  Sultan  and  The 
Anvil,  and  the  latter  between  The  Anvil  and  Tower  mountains.  Up 
Mineral  creek  a  dozen  miles  we  find  Red  mountain,  the  scene  of  the 
latest  and  richest  discoveries  in  the  San  Juan,  but  which  will  be  consid- 
ered elsewhere.  Cement  creek  has  several  good  mines,  while  beyond, 
almost  on  the  divide  between  the  Animas  and  the  Uncompahgre,  lies  the 
Poughkeepsie  Gulch  camp,  which  was,  not  long  ago,  the  locality  of  a 
"boom;  "  and  I  have  the  opinion  of  a  very  competent  judge,  that  there 
probably  is  no  equally  limited  district  in  the  whole  region,  Red  moun- 
tain being  perhaps  excepted,  where  so  much  good  ore  exists. 

Still  farther,  at  the  very  head  of  Cement  creek,  is  located  the 
important  Ross  Basin  group  of  mines,  worked  by  English  capital,  as 
are  many  other  claims  in  the  San  Juan  mountains.  A  neighboring 
mine  is  remarkable  for  producing  an  ore  of  bismuth  in  such  quantity 


UP  CUNNINGHAM  GULCH.  143 

as  to  give  it  great  mineralogical  interest.  Bismuth  is  exceedingly  rare. 
In  the  United  States  it  is  obtained  only  to  a  small  amount  in  Connecticut. 
Saxony  furnishes  commerce  its  main  supply,  procuring  it  at  the  metal- 
lurgical works  of  Freiburg,  where  it  is  associated  with  the  lead  ores, 
and  is  extracted  from  the  cupel  furnace  after  large  quantities  of  lead 
have  been  refined,  being  accumulated  in  the  rich  litharge,  or  liquid 
dross,  near  the  conclusion  of  the  process.  This  litharge  is  treated  with 
acid,  and  the  bismuth  precipitated  as  a  chloride  by  dilution  with  water. 
The  making  of  lily  white  and  other  complexion  compounds  is  the  chief 
use  to  which  bismuth  is  applied.  The  Madame  assures  me  that  the 
effect  upon  the  skin  is  very  noxious, — but  how  could  she  know  that? 

Crossing  the  divide,  passing  the  "Mountain  Queen"  district,  and 
proceeding  eastward  clown  the  west  branch  of  the  Animas  to  the  town  of 
Animas  Forks,  another  prosperous  and  populous  mining  area  is  reached. 
Mineral  Point,  where  twenty  or  thirty  rich  veins  crop  out,  is  covered 
with  claim  stakes  until  it  looks  like  a  young  vineyard.  Its  ores,  in  gen- 
eral, are  dry, — that  is,  contain  little  lead;  and  some  streaks  show  the 
beautiful  ruby  silver.  Yet  further  down,  on  the  eastern  side  of  the 
river,  lie  the  partly  developed  silver  veins  and  ledges  of  gold  quartz  in 
Picayune  gulch,  where  hydraulic  machinery  is  used;  and  opposite  is 
Brown's  gulch,  where  galena  and  gray  copper  occur. 

The  river  in  this  part  of  the  valley  struggles  through  a  close  and 
pretty  canon,  at  the  lower  end  of  which  stands  Eureka,— a  neat  village 
nestling  among  trees.  Here,  too,  are  concentration  works,  and  the 
headquarters  of  several  companies  operating  in  Eureka,  Minnie,  and 
Maggie  gulches. 

The  wall  like  sides  of  the  mountains  shutting  close  in  together  from 
Eureka  down  to  Howardsville,  show  "mineral  stains"  everywhere,  and 
the  eye  can  trace  dozens  of  veins  slanting  up  and  down  the  dark  cliffs, 
and  study  how  they  thicken  here  and  pinch  there,  or  just  beyond  per- 
haps disappear  altogether,  upsetting  all  the  old  theories.  At  Howards- 
ville, which  was  the  center  of  everything  years  ago,  the  reviewer 
diverges  up  Cunningham  gulch,  completing  the  circle  of  his  inquiries, 
for  from  Howardsville  to  Silverton  it  is  only  four  miles. 

Cunningham  is  a  good  type  of  those  huge  ravines  the  western  man 
calls  gulches.  Its  real  walls  are  several  hundred  yards  apart, — Galena 
and  Green  mountains  on  the  north,  King  Solomon  on  the  south — 
but  from  each  have  tumbled  long  sloping  banks  of  debris,  that  join 
at  their  bases  into  a  series  of  ridges.  Among  these  a  turbulent  stream 
seeks  its  irregular  way,  and  over  them  the  traveler  must  climb  wearil3T, 
making  frequent  detours  to  avoid  huge  pieces  of  rock  that  have  fallen 
bodily  from  the  cliffs,  and  have  been  rolled  by  their  great  weight  to  the 
very  bottom  of  the  gorge.  Here  and  there  the  walls  are  sundered,  and 
down  a  side  ravine  is  tossed  a  foaming  line  of  cataracts;  or  some  hollow 
among  the  peaks  (themselves  out  of  sight)  will  turn  its  gathered  drain- 


144  THE  GUEST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

age  over  the  cliff,  to  fall  two  or  three  thousand  feet  in  a  resounding 
series  of  cascades,  white  and  filmy  and  brilliant  against  its  dark  and 
glistening  background.  Wherever  any  soil  has  been  able  to  gather 
upon  these  loose  rocks,  if  some  curvature  of  the  cliffs  protects  from  the 
sweeping  destruction  of  snow  avalanches,  heavy  spruce  timber  grows, 
and  this,  with  lighter  tinted  patches  of  poplars,  or  willow-thickets  in 
wet  places,  or  a  tangle  of  briers  hiding  the  sharp  rocks  and  beloved  of 
the  woodchucks  and  conies,  give  all  there  is  of  vegetation. 

But  these  are  all  minor  features,  under-foot.  Overhead  tower  the 
rosy  and  gleaming  monuments  of  that  old  time  "when  the  gods  were 
young  and  the  world  was  new ; " — cliffs  rising  so  steeply  that  only  here 
and  there  can  they  be  climbed,  and  studded  with  domes  and  pinnacles  so 
slender  and  lofty  that,  under  our  unsteady  glance,  they  seem  to  totter 
and  swim  vaguely  through  the  azure  concave. 

Amid  this  magnificence  of  rock-work,  spanned  by  a  violet  edged 
vault  which  is  not  sky  but  only  color,— the  purest  mass  of  color  in  the 
universe, — passes  the  trail  and  stage- road  cut  over  the  lofty  crest  to  the 
sources  of  the  Rio  Grande,  and  thence  down  through  Antelope  park  to 
beautiful  Wagon- Wheel  Gap,  and  the  railway  again.  Here,  too,  are 
rich  silver  mines,  lowest  down  the  "Pride  of  the  West,"  next  the 
"Green  Mountain,"  and,  last  of  all,  "Highland  Mary,"  standing  almost 
on  the  summit  of  the  pass. 

The  central  point  and  outlet  of  all  this  district  is  Silverton,  and  its 
founders  preempted  almost  the  only  site  for  a  town  of  any  consequence 
in  the  whole  region.  Yet  she  has  less  than  one  thousand  acres  to 
spread  herself  over.  Engulfed  amid  lofty  peaks,  a  little  park  lies  as 
level  as  a  billiard-table,  and  as  green,  breaking  into  bluffs  and  benches 
northward  where  the  river  finds  its  way  down. 

When,  three  and  twenty  years  ago,  miners  were  amazed  at  the 
wealth  disclosed  in  the  mines  of  central  Colorado,  eager  prospectors 
began  to  penetrate  yet  deeper  into  the  recesses  of  the  jumbled  ranges 
that  lay  behind  the  front  rank.  Among  the  boldest  of  these  was  a  certain 
Colonel  Baker,  reputed  to  have  got  his  title  as  a  confederate  officer,  who 
organized  a  large  party  of  men — some  say  two  hundred  in  number — to 
go  on  an  exploration  of  what  was  then  called  the  Pike's  Peak  belt, 
including  nearly  all  the  region  between  that  historic  mountain  and  the 
head  of  the  Gila  river  in  Arizona.  Marching  eastward  to  Pueblo,  and 
thence  by  the  old  Mexican  wagon-road  through  Conejos  and  Tierra 
Amarilla,  Baker  and  his  men  worked  northward  along  the  San  Juan 
and  Animas,  prospecting  for  and  finding  more  or  less  bars  of  gold-gravel 
(you  may  get  "  colors"  anywhere  in  this  part  of  Colorado),  till  finally, 
in  the  summer  of  1860,  he  crossed  the  range,  and  discovered  the  deep- 
sunken  nook  which  bears  his  name. 

Erecting  a  central  camp  here,  these  prospectors  climbed  all  the 


SILVERTON  AND  BAKERS  PARK.  145 

mountains,  and  pushed  up  every  ravine,  in  search  of  gold,  but  found 
small  encouragement.  The  silver  they  knew  of,  but  had  no  means  of 
working.  Winter  came,  and  they  gathered  together  and  built  cabins 
in  the  thick  timber  at  the  mouth  of  the  canon.  The  snow  packed  deep 
about  them,  a  provision  train  intended  for  their  succor  was  captured  by 
the  Indians,  who  became  aggressive,  sickness  set  in,  and  the  horrors  of 
starvation  stood  at  their  very  doors.  This  terror,  added  to  their  lack  of 
success,  overcame  even  pioneer  patience  and  philosophy.  Reviling 
Baker  as  a  cheat,  who  had  brought  them,  under  false  pretenses,  into 
this  terrible  state,  they  were  about  to  hang  him  to  one  of  the  groaning 
pines  that  mocked  their  misery  with  a  loud  pretense  of  grief  in  every 
storm,  when  some  slight  help  came  and  the  colonel's  neck  was  saved. 
The  following  summer,  all  who  had  not  died  crawled  out  of  their 
prison-park  and  returned  to  civilization. 

It  was  not  until  ten  years  later  that  any  persons  went  to  Baker's 
park  to  stay,  and  then  they  were  extremely  few  in  number.  Almost  the 
first  result  of  this  second  advent  of  prospectors  was  the  unearthing  of 
the  "Little  Giant"  gold  mine  in  Arastra  gulch — a  narrow  ravine  where 
were  at  once  erected  a  log  village  and  an  arastra  with  which  to  crush  the 
quartz,  worked  by  the  little  stream  which  trickles  down  from  the  snow- 
banks Simultaneously  came  the  discovery  of  silver  leads,  a  fact  that 
speedily  got  abroad,  induced  a  little  boom,  and  set  Howardsville  on  its 
feet  as  a  camp  of  some  importance  and  magnificent  expectations. 

Five  miles  below,  Silverton  was  laid  out  straight  and  square,  became 
the  county-seat,  and  attracted  most  of  the  new-comers  as  a  place  of 
residence.  At  first,  of  course,  all  the  buildings  were  of  logs,  and  bore 
roofs  of  dirt.  To-day  the  village  has  perhaps  fifteen  hundred  permanent 
residents;  churches,  schools,  newspapers,  the  telegraph,  and  all  the 
appurtenances  of  frontier  civilization.  It  is  characteristic  of  these  moun- 
tain towns  that  they  spring  full  size  into  both  existence  and  dignity. 
There  is  no  Topsy-growth  at  all ;  rather  a  Minerva-like  maturity  from 
the  start. 

For  several  years  no  wagon-road  entered  Baker's  park,  and  the  only 
communication  between  it  and  the  outside  world  was  by  saddle  animals. 
As  the  local  paper  gently  expressed  it,  it  "was  somewhat  deprived  of 
easy  transportation."  Goods  and  machinery  of  every  sort  had  to  be 
brought  in  on  the  backs  of  the  tough  and  patient  little  Mexican  donkeys, 
toiling  across  the  terrible  heights  under  burdens  almost  as  bulky  as 
themselves.  The  whole  town  would  be  alive  with  a  general  jubilation 
when  the  tinkling  bells  of  the  first  train  of  jacks  was  heard  in  the  spring, 
for  that  meant  the  end  of  a  six  months'  siege  in  the  midst  of  impassable 
snow. 

Though  these  mountains  are  yet  full  of  men  who  go  about  all  day 
with  a  big  six-shooter  in  their  belt;  and  though  the  main  streets  of  Sil- 
verton (like  other  frontier  places)  contain  too  many  drinking  and 

7 


140 


THE   CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 


CANON    OF  THE   RIO   DE   LAS   ANIMAS. 


gambling  saloons,  yet  the  town  has  never  passed  through  such  a  rough 
history  as  most  mining  camps  see,  and  it  is  to-day  the  most  orderly 
village  in  the  whole  region.  This  is  chiefly  due  to  the  quietly  deter- 
mined attitude  its  best  citizens  have  taken,  and  their  fixed  purpose  not 
to  let  the  lawless  rule. 

In  the  summer  of  1881,  however,  the  remnants  of  the  gang  of  des- 
peradoes who  had  infested  Durango  during  the  winter,  tried  to  make 
Silverton  a  rendezvous,  and  one  night  killed  an  inoffensive  and  highly 
esteemed  officer,  who  was  aiding  a  sheriff  to  arrest  one  of  their  number. 
It  was  the  culmination  of  many  atrocities,  and  the  citizens  at  once  resus- 
citated their  Vigilance  Committee.  One  of  the  ruffians  was  apprehended 
the  same  night,  and  quietly  hung  the  following  evening.  Large  rewards 


STERN  FRONTIER  JUSTICE.  147 

were  offered,  detectives  and  sheriffs  set  at  work,  and  finally  the  leading 
spirit  of  evil  was  captured  by  the  treachery  of  his  most  trusted  ally  in 
previous  villainies.  After  some  delay  this  prisoner  was  brought  to  Sil- 
verton  in  charge  of  his  Judas-like  comrade,  who  took  his  reward  and 
rode  swiftly  away,  distrusting  the  pledge  of  the  citizens  that  he  should 
go  safely  out  of  town.  This  was  on  Friday.  The  prisoner  was  locked 
up,  and  strong  relays  of  heavily  armed  guards,  chosen  from  men  of 
respectability  and  standing  in  the  community  relieved  each  other  at  the 
jail  night  and  day,  until  Sunday  morning  came,  and  with  it  a  cold,  dis- 
mal storm. 

All  day  the  rain  fell  steadily  down,  and  the  air  was  clammy  with 
chill  mist.  Dense  banks  of  clouds  were  packed  into  the  dripping 
gulches,  capped  the  hidden  summits  and  clung  in  ragged  masses  among 
the  trees  that  darkly  clothed  the  sides  of  the  mountains.  Occasional 
gusts  of  wind  drove  the  storm  hard  against  the  window  panes,  but  for 
the  most  part  rain  fell  quietly,  the  streets  became  avenues  of  inky  paste, 
and  the  darkness  of  evening  gathered  early  about  the  town,  settling  like 
a  pall  upon  all  the  waiting,  people  in  it. 

Everyone  knew,  though  the  majority  could  hardly  say  why,  that 
the  hour  of  fate  had  come.  As  the  night  thickened,  men  gathered  on 
the  corners  nearest  the  jail,  and,  unmindful  of  the  persistent  rain,  stood 
talking  in  low  tones  to  two  or  three  listeners  whose  faces  were  close 
together  and  strangely  serious.  Moving  here  and  there  were  other  little 
groups,  their  footsteps  hardly  heard  in  the  soft  mire,  and  their  voices 
hushed, — moving  chiefly  up  and  down  the  alley  where  the  jail  stood. 

The  saloons  and  gambling-rooms  were  open,  but  the  dance-hall, 
which  last  night  echoed  so  late  to  the  clatter  of  heavy  boots  and  the 
shouts  of  half  drunken  revelry,  was  closed,  and  the  few  women  who 
haunted  the  other  liquor  dens  seemed  to  have  forgotten  their  coarse 
jibes  and  laid  aside  their  accustomed  wiles.  The  soft  rattle  of  the  thin 
faro-checks,  the  clink  of  silver  lost  and  won,  and  the  louder  crack  of 
billiard-balls,  were  heard  as  usual,  only  more  distinctly,  while  the 
monotonous  "ante-up,  gents!"  "Are  you  all  ready?"  "The  deuce 
wins,"  and  so  on,  of  the  imperturbable  dealers,  mingled  in  a  sort  of 
minor  music  to  which  all  sharper  sounds  were  accordantly  attuned. 
But  the  players  were  moderate  in  their  stakes,  and  the  ordinary  excite- 
ment of  the  smoke-dimmed  rooms  was  hushed. 

Still  fell  the  rain  drearily.  The  stern  guards  about  the  jail  hugged 
their  rifles  under  their  arms,  to  keep  them  dry  at  the  breech,  and  now 
and  then  tipped  streams  of  water  out  of  the  broad  hollow  brims  of  their 
sombreros.  In  the  log  gaol  the  murderer  lay  upon  his  couch,  apparently 
sound  asleep,  and  the  inside  sentinels  rested  their  guns  on  their  knees 
and  counted  the  moments  until  their  watch  should  be  over.  Nine  o'clock 
came  and  passed  without  note.  Nine  o'clock  and  thirty  minutes  was 
marked  on  the  cold  face  of  the  clock,  when  the  key  grated  in  the  iron 


148  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

lock,  the  door  opened  a  little  way  and  three  masked  men  glided  in,  shut- 
ting the  door  behind  them.  One  brought  with  him  a  rope,  which  he 
fastened  into  a  staple  set  in  one  of  the  rafters,  standing  upon  a  chair 
which  gave  him  only  height  enough  just  to  reach  the  beam.  Another 
touched  the  prisoner,  and  told  him  his  time  had  come.  That  afternoon 
he  had  assured  his  keepers  that  they  would  see  "  as  brave  a  death  a£  ever 
went  out  of  that  prison."  It  was  no  surprise,  then,  to  see  this  boy  (for 
lie  was  scarcely  twenty)  rise  coolly  from  his  bed  and  walk  to  where  the 
chair  had  been  placed  underneath  the  dangling  noose.  Perhaps  he 
would  have  liked  to  have  shaken  hands,  had  not  his  arms  been  manacled 
behind  his  back ;  but  instead,  pausing  a  moment  ere  he  took  his  place, 
and  without  a  tremor,  he  simply  said,  ''Well,  adios,  boys!  "  Then,  step- 
ping up,  he  inclined  his  head  and  himself  set  it  well  within  the  noose. 
There  was  a  touch  of  the  rope  to  tighten  the  knot,  a  snatching  aside  of 
the  chair, and  the  outlaw  had  "gone  over  the  range,"  beyond  all  further 
harm  or  doing  of  it. 

Then  the  jail  was  locked,  and  few  knew,  even  at  midnight,  whether 
or  not  the  retribution  had  come.  There  was  no  boisterousness,  no  gloat- 
ing over  vengeance  satisfied,  less  of  mirth  and  curiosity,  than  I  ever  saw 
in  a  community  where  an  execution  under  the  sanction  of  law  was  taking 
place.  It  was  more  an  awe-struck  feeling  of  a  terrible  necessity,  as  if 
an  impending  calamity  was  at  hand,  or  some  great  affliction  present. 

Next  morning  the  coroner's  jury  met,  and  a  ray  of  light  was  shot 
across  the  sombre  picture ;  the  verdict  said : 

"Came  to  Ms  death  from  hanging  'round!  " 


XIV 
BEYOND  THE  RANGES. 


All  the  means  of  action — 
The  shapeless  masses,  the  materials- 
Lie  everywhere  about  us. 


— LONGFELLOW. 


HREE  districts  require  mention  before  this  corner  of 
the  state  is  bidden  farewell, — Ophir,  Rico  and  the  La- 
Plata  mountains. 

Ophir  lies  fifteen  miles  east  of  Silverton  and  on 
the  Pacific  slope,  for  it  is  at  one  source  of  the  Rio 
Dolores.  It  is  reached  by  a  wagon-road  up  Mineral 
Creek,  which  is  one  of  the  most  "  scenic  routes"  I  know  of  in  Colorado. 
At  first  there  is  not  much  to  call  forth  admiration;  nearing  the  top, 
however,  a  remarkable  picture  presents  itself.  In  a  closely  guarding 
circle  of  purplish  peaks,  stand  two  isolated  mountains  of  entirely  differ- 
ent character  and  most  striking  appearance.  Instead  of  the  vertical 
cliffs,  serrated  and  splintered  summits  and  ragged  gray  of  the  majority 
of  the  mountains,  these  are  as  rounded  and  smooth  on  top  as  if  they  had 
been  shaved  by  a  lawn  mower,  and  rise  in  unbroken  slopes  far  above 
the  blackish  masses  of  timber  which  closely  envelope  their  bases.  It  is 
their  color,  however,  that  makes  them  so  grandly  conspicuous.  Long 
strokes  of  orange  and  rust  color  extend  up  and  down  from  the  spruces 
to  the  apex,  streaked  with  bright  red  and  set  off  with  upright  lines  of 
glowing  yellow,  all  softly  blended  together  and  crossed  by  a  crowd  of 
hair-lines,  wavy  and  level  with  the  horizon,  like  the  plumage  of  a 
canvas  back  duck.  Stand  where  you  will  on  the  eastern  side  of  this 
divide  between  the  Animas  and  the  San  Miguel,  and  these  great, 
smooth,  cushiony  hills  of  red,  tower  up  level  with  your  eye,  burning 
under  the  sunlight. 

At  last  the  road  rises  above  timber  line,  but  even  to  the  last  verge, 
the  soil  under  the  trees  is  crowded  with  flowers  and  all  sorts  of  pretty 
herbage,  among  which  the  strawberry  takes  precedence  in  point  of 
abundance.  Then  the  track  lies  underneath  beetling  cliffs  which  have 
crumbled  into  long  tall,  and  the  pass  itself  is  only  the  triangular  depres- 
sion between  two  opposite  slides.  On  one  side  here  the  rock  is  brown 
and  broken  almost  as  fine  as  railway  ballast;  on  the  other  the  fragments 
rule  much  larger  in  size,  are  of  bluish  trachyte  and  completely  cov- 
ered everywhere  with  a  stone-lichen  hardly  thicker  than  paint,  which 

149 


150  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

gives  them  a  decidedly  green  color,  while  the  brown  rocks  opposite  are 
entirely  devoid  of  lichens. 

Down  this  jumble  of  fallen  rocks— the  scene  of  one  incessant  slow 
avalanche  from  the  weather-crumbled  crests  still  remaining  above  — 
the  road  passes  by  a  steep  and  tortuous  grade,  made  somewhat  smooth 
by  filling  the  crevices  with  small  stuff  ;  but  the  result  would  make  the 
ghost  of  McAdam  turn  a  shade  paler. 

These  vast  " slides"  are  a  prominent  feature  in  every  landscape  in 
southern  Colorado.  The  volcanic  rock  with  which  all  the  mountains 
are  capped,  has  a  natural  cleavage  in  two  directions  and  rapidly  disin- 
tegrates, even  under  the  air.  On  the  quiet,  still  days  of  midsummer, 
you  continually  hear  the  rattle  of  pieces  of  rock  which  have  fallen 
untouched  from  some  scarp  or  pinnacle,  and  are  racing  down  the  steep 
talus  below.  The  winter,  however,  is  the  time  of  greatest  destruction. 
Into  the  thousand  cracks  and  crannies  the  rains  and  snows  of  autumn 
pour  floods  of  water,  which  penetrate  the  inmost  recesses  of  the  well- 
seamed  crags.  Then  comes  a  frost.  The  little  veins  and  pockets  of 
water  expand  with  a  sudden  force,  combined  and  irresistible.  Perhaps 
some  huge  projection  of  cliff  flies  to  pieces  as  though  filled  full  of 
exploding  dynamite  ;  perhaps  a  stronger  body  of  frost  behind  it  pries 
off  the  whole  mass  at  once,  and  it  dashes  head-long  down  the  side  of  the 
mountain,  to  scatter  widely  its  cracked  shell  and  leave  the  core  a  huge 
bowlder,  which  crashes  its  way  far  into  the  struggling  woods  at  the  foot 
of  the  rough  slope.  This  process  goes  on,  season  after  season,  until 
finally  the  thousands  of  feet  of  summit,  which  once  towered  proudly 
above  the  mountain's  base,  have  been  crumbled  down  to  a  level  with  the 
top  of  the  debris-slope.  If  the  rock  is  very  soft,  then  the  process  goes 
on  with  each  fallen  block,  until  it  is  reduced  to  soil  and  forms  a  smooth, 
grassy  slope,  or  a  clean  shaven  but  barren  slide,  like  the  rich  red  hills 
we  saw  on  the  other  side  of  Lookout  ;  but  if  the  fragments  are  hard, 
then  gradually  the  bushes  and  grass  will  creep  up,  and  the  forest  will 
follow  as  high  as  climate  and  snow-fall  will  let  it  grow,  and  above  will 
be  a  rounded  crest  of  broken  lava  like  Veta  mountain— the  worst  thing 
to  climb  in  the  wide  world. 

From  the  long,  slanting  niche  which  lets  the  road  down  across  this 
broken  and  sliding  rock,  where  men  are  always  at  work  to  throw  aside 
the  ceaselessly  falling  crumbs  of  the  cliff,  one  gets  his  first  view  of  Ophir 
gulch, —  a  valley  half  a  dozen  miles  in  length,  without  an  acre  of  level 
ground  in  the  whole  of  it.  This  end  is  closed  by  Lookout  mountain, 
the  opposite  by  the  lofty  crags  of  Mt.  Wilson.  On  the  north,  Silver 
mountain  cuts  the  sky  in  ragged  outline,  and,  braced  against  its  base, 
Yellow  mountain  rises  straight  from  the  creek-side  to  an  almost  equal 
altitude.  In  the  crevice  between  stand  the  score  or  so  of  log  cabins, 
which  constitute  what  many  persons  consider  the  liveliest  camp  in  the 
whole  San  Juan. 


MOUNTAIN  PICTURES.  151 

It  is  only  eight  years  since  the  value  of  this  locality  was  made 
known,  but  now  the  mountains  on  both  sides  of  the  gulch  are  pitted 
like  a  pepper-box  with  prospecting  tunnels,  and  there  are  perhaps  twenty 
mines  shipping  ore  in  profitable  quantities,  even  under  the  great  dis- 
advantages of  their  isolation.  The  leads  in  general  run  northeast  and 
southwest,  but  good  openings  have  been  found  all  the  way  from  the 
brink  of  the  creek  to  the  shattered  combing  that  casts  its  ragged  shadow 
down  the  long,  white  slopes.  Systematic  development  has  been  carried 
on  in  very  few  mines  as  yet,  but  the  indications  promise  great  things  for 
the  future.  Half  a  dozen  gold  workings  in  particular  are  very  rich, 
and  several  sales  have  been  made  exceeding  $50,000  for  a  single 
location. 

Remounting,  the  ride  homeward  through  the  mellow  afternoon,  was 
very  delightful.  The  mountains  rose  on  either  side  high  above  where 
the  hardiest  trees  could  manage  to  exist,  gorgeously  stained  in  great 
chevrons  of  red,  orange  and  rust  yellow.  Lookout  and  its  brother  peaks 
seemed  vast  stacks  of  triangles,  all  upright  and  baseless,  backed  with 
long  slides  of  varied  umber  tints.  On  some  of  these  slides  the  grass  has 
grown,  long  tongues  of  it  penetrating  far  toward  the  bright  walls  over- 
head, while  elsewhere  mile-wide  slopes  of  grayish  white  lie  untouched 
by  any  blemish  or  projection.  Everything  is  triangular, —  the  outlines 
of  the  peaks  and  the  reverse  in  the  gorges  between  ;  the  shape  of  the 
fallen  fragments  ;  of  the  long  spear-points  of  verdure  that  climb  them, 
and  of  the  trees  and  even  the  separate  leaves  that  blend  into  those  acute 
green  patches;  of  the  broad  strokes  of  vivid  color  that  have  been  painted 
so  lavishly  on  these  splendid  slopes  ;  even  of  the  splitting  and  cleavage 
of  every  cliff-face  and  toppling  spire  that  glistens  in  the  slanting  light 
and  throws  a  slender-pointed  shadow  across  the  velvet  brim  of  the 
valley. 

Backward,  where  the  forests  lie  unbroken  on  the  southern  wall  of 
the  gulch,  long  ranks  and  patches  of  aspens  were  interspersed  with  the 
reigning  evergreens,  and  these  the  frosts  had  touched  with  various  hues 
from  its  full  palette — bright  green  still  where  the  leaves  were  protected, 
yellow  on  the  warm  side  of  the  ridges,  vivid  orange  and  scarlet  along  the 
crests,— so  that  these  patches  glowed  like  red  and  yellow  flame  against 
the  dark  spruces  and  firs. 

Near  timber-line  there  is  a  remarkable  picture.  Down  from  the 
northern  mountain  there  trickle  reddish  streamlets  over  a  space  several 
rods  in  width.  A  few  yards  below  the  road  all  this  water  collects  itself 
into  a  basin,  which,  begun  by  some  trivial  obstruction,  has  been  able  to 
build  up  its  walls  by  slow  deposition,  until  a  great  iron  tank,  with  walls 
twenty-five  or  thirty  feet  high,  and  several  feet  thick,  contains  all  but  a 
trickling  overflow  of  the  mineral  water.  This  tank  is  surrounded  with 
pretty  trees,  and  its  wavy  red  outline  holds  a  fountain  as  richly  green  as 
^n  emerald  ;  or  blue  if  you  look  at  it  from  some  one  of  the  surrounding 


152 


THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 


heights,  so  that  the  Spanish  way  of  calling  a  spring  ojo — an  eye — seems 
very  natural. 

Beyond  this  highly  tinted  natural  reservoir,  built  out  like  a  balcony 
on  the  steep  hillside,  you  look  across  to  undulating  verdant  knolls,  where 
shapely  trees  are  scattered  thinly,  up  beyond  a  deep  maroon  slope,  fall- 
ing from  a  noble,  iron  brown  bluff,  and  so  on  away  to  the  gray  and  lofty 
peaks,  in  whose  rifts  and  vertical  gorges  the  shadow  lies  blue  as  the 
farther  edge  of  the  sea,  and  whose  clustering,  cumulative  spires,  culmi- 
nate in  gleaming  apices  of  snow. 

Rico  is  the  next  point.  It  is  accessible  from  the  north  by  wagon 
roads,  but  the  entrance  from  this  side  is  by  stage  from  Rockwood  Sta- 
tion on  the  railway,  midway  between  Durango  and  Silverton.  The  road 
bears  northward,  and  the  views  to  the  eastward  are  far-reaching  and 
noble.  The  traveler  alive  to  the  resources  of  the  region,  will  note  the 


' 


ON  THE   RIVER  OF  LOST  SOULS. 


rich,  thick  grass,  and  the 
great  pine  timber,  with 
poplars  between  to  serve 
for  log  house  and  fencing 
purposes ;  he  will  also  re- 
gret the  limited  possibilities 
for  agriculture.  Toward 
the  head  of  this  valley  the 

woods  thicken,  and  the  road  gets  rougher  and  starts  up  the  long  slope 
that  ultimately  carries  it  over  the  hill.  The  ragged  outlines  of  the  San 
Miguel  range  come  into  view  ahead,  while  the  valley  below,  a  solid 
"heather"  of  scrubby  oak  bushes,  briers,  ferns,  and  so  on,  seems  car- 
peted in  a  queer  design  of  tints  of  green  and  yellow,  interspersed  with 
all  the  mixtures  of  orange,  scarlet  and  crimson  that  the  deft  ringers 
of  the  early  frost  could  devise. 


RIDING  A   BUCKBOARD.  153 

Over  the  long  hill  and  past  the  spruces,  an  hour's  trotting  takes  the 
buckboard  through  the  long  hay  meadows  of  Hermosa  park,  whence  it 
ascends  a  four- mile  hill  to  the  summit  of  the  last  range  dividing  the  waters 
of  the  Rio  Las  Animas  from  those  of  the  Rio  Dolores.  And  how  we  rattle 
down  that  Dolores  slope  !  An  Englishman  riding  on  the  Pennsylvania's 
sixty  miles-an  hour  train  from  New  York  to  Philadelphia,  the  other  day, 
exclaimed,  "It's  wonderful  !  I  think  if  something  should  drop  one  of 
you  Yankees  astride  a  thunderbolt,  the  first  thing  you  would  do  would 
be  to  say,  '  chk  !  chk  /  '"  I  thought  of  that  as  we  started,  almost  at  a 
gallop,  down  that  steep  and  winding  mountain  road.  Corners  —  we 
snapped  around  them.  Hollows  and  ridges  — we  bounced  into  and  out 
of  them.  Down  long,  rough  slopes,  cut  in  the  side  of  a  hill  so  steep  that 
just  under  the  hub  it  fell  away  hundreds  of  feet  almost  like  a  precipice ; 
down  through  the  full  blaze  of  the  afternoon  rays  in  the  frost  turned 
aspens,  where 

"  Tremulous,  floating  in  air,  o'er  depths  of  azure  abysses, 
Down  through  the  golden  leaves  the  sun  was  pouring  his  splendors," 

we  rushed  at  a  pace  that  Phaeton,  in  his  first  hours  of  freedom,  might 
have  enjoyed  in  his  chariot,  but  which  to  us,  in  an  old  buckboard,  was 
simply  torture.  Why  we  did  n't  pitch  oil  the  imminent  verge,  why  we 
did  n't  fall  to  pieces  against  some  one  of  the  thousand  rocks  we  assaulted, 
why  our  bones  were  not  broken  and  our  diaphragms  bursted,  is  incom- 
prehensible. 

Rico  is  situated  in  the  center  of  a  volcanic  upburst  which  has  parted 
the  sandstones  and  limestones  once  spread  thousands  of  feet  thick  over 
the  area,  and  whose  edges  now  stand  as  bold  bluffs  all  around  this 
break,  which  is  nearly  four  miles  in  breadth  and  about  eight  in  length. 
The  town  itself  is  made  up  of  a  scattered,  gardenless  collection  of  log 
cabins  and  some  frame  buildings,  with  a  log  suburb  called  Tenderfoot 
Town,  and  numbers  about  six  hundred  people.  It  is  very  dull,  compared 
with  most  Colorado  camps,  but  this  is  owing  to  the  fact  that  everybody 
is  waiting  until  the  railway  gets  a  little  nearer. 

The  Rico  mines  are  characterized  by  their  great  dissimilarity  with 
each  other.  Nearly  every  sort  of  ore,  of  both  silver  and  gold,  is  found 
mingled  in  a  most  heterogeneous  way  among  the  lavas,  recalling  that 
marvelously  mixed  mineralogical  madrigal  in  the  Colorado  comic  opera, 
Brittle  Silver. 

"  I  have  found  out  a  gift  for  my  fair, 

I  have  found  where  the  calcites  abound, 
Where  skldpsite  and  zfrcon  appear 
With  sarcolite  scattered  around. 

"  Then  come  love,  and  never  say  nay, 

With  plcrosmine  thy  heart  I'll  delight, 
With  diaspore  and  mangandblend  gay, 
And  pharmak6siderite." 


154  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

Some  true  fissure-veins  exist,  but  more  irregular  deposits,  and  both 
"lead  "  and  "dry"  ores  occur,  often  in  contiguous  claims.  The  richest 
ores  thus  far  are  those  without  lead  ;  where  galena  occurs  it  is  mixed 
with  so  much  zinc  and  antimony  as  to  make  it  troublesome  in  treatment. 
A  galena  ore  here,  which  will  show  a  mill-run  of  thirty  ounces  (my 
authority  is  Mr.  Amos  Lane,  superintendent  of  the  smelter),  is  considered 
very  good. 

Rico  has  not  yet  worked  far  enough  into  her  very  numerous  "loca- 
tions "  to  make  sure  of  the  riches  her  mountains  are  supposed  to  con- 
tain. There  is  no  doubt  that  the  cliffs  about  her  are  full  of  silver  and 
gold,  stored  up  in  what,  under  more  favorable  circumstances,  would  be 
profitable  quantities  ;  also  that  there  is  in  the  near  neighborhood  a  mag- 
nificent supply  of  bituminous  and  "free-burning  anthracite  "  coal,  good 
material  for  charcoal,  limestone  for  flux,  bog  and  magnetic  iron,  fire- 
clay and  good  building  stone.  The  time  will  come,  then,  when  Rico  will 
be  able  cheaply  to  treat  its  own  product,  but  this  will  be  after  wagon- 
roads  and  railways  have  come  nearer,  and  outside  capital  has  lent  its 
strength  to  bring  to  the  surface  the  hidden,  or  only  partially  exposed, 
treasures  of  the  veins. 

South  of  the  San  Juan  range,  and  somewhat  isolated,  is  the  noble 
La  Plata  group  of  mountains.  They  are  volcanic,  like  the  rest,  and,  of 
course,  of  Alpine  appearance,  while  their  slopes,  lying  far  south,  pro- 
duce so  many  varieties  of  foliage,  that  they  often  present  real  bits  of 
beauty — a  word  having  rare  application  in  Colorado's  scenery.  These 
mountains  were  prospected  eight  or  ten  years  ago,  and  a  placer  bar  of 
supposed  extraordinary  value  was  found  near  the  head  of  the  Rio  La 
Plata  by  a  company  of  California  miners.  I  remember  very  well  the 
picturesque  little  camp  they  had  there,  and  the  day  they  got  their  first 
butter  for  nine  months.  Having  interested  in  the  locality  Mr.  Parrott,  a 
California  capitalist,  a  town  grew  there  rapidly,  called  Parrott  City,  now 
only  sixteen  miles  from  Durango,  and  arrangements  were  made  for 
working  the  placers  by  hydraulic  machinery.  Meanwhile  searching 
about  the  peaks  disclosed  gold  quartz  in  some  quantity,  and  many  veins 
bearing  dry  ores  of  silver,  absence  of  galena  being  characteristic.  I 
see  no  reason  why  these  peaks  should  not  be  equally  productive  with 
any  district  in  the  region. 

But  this  is  true,  as  I  constantly  insist,  of  all  the  San  Juan.  Every- 
body looks  forward.  Each  proposes  to  do  this  and  that,  and  to  be 
happy — "  when  I  sell  my  mine."  Perhaps  this  delicious  uncertainty  is 
a  part  of  the  fun.  Yet  many  a  miner  would  reprove  me  for  exaggerating 
the  uncertainty  ;  I  only  hope  he  is  right  and  I  am  wrong.  That  there  is 
a  vast  amount  of  the  precious  metals  hidden  in  the  veins  of  these  moun- 
tains is  undeniable.  It  is  equally  true  that  we  know  where  very  much 
of  it  lies.  But  the  question  stands  :  Is  it  sufficiently  concentrated  to 
make  the  getting  it  out  and  refining  it  into  a  useful  condition,  yield  a 


SUCCESS  OF  THE  SAN  JUAN.  15ft 

margin  of  profit  on  expenses  ?  No  doubt  it  is  in  many  cases,  but  is  it 
in  the  majority  of  so-called  "  mines,"  or  in  enough  to  support  any  gen- 
eral population  and  business?  Many  discreet  persons  say  "  No."  Many 
more,  naturally,  will  answer,  "  Yes."  I,  myself,  making  no  claim  to 
utter  a  skilled,  or  a  weighty,  or  any  kind  of  an  opinion  except  a  care- 
fully unbiased  one,  think  the  balance  of  chances  is  in  favor  of  ultimate 
success  ;  and  I  am  not  afraid  to  predict  that  through  slow  but  perma- 
nent advancement  this  corner  of  Colorado  will  come  to  be  one  of  the 
most  important  silver-producing  regions  on  the  globe. 

Upon  this  event  depends  the  fate  of  a  great  many  enterprising 
investments.  Faith  in  the  success  of  these  mines  has  caused  the  Denver 
and  Rio  Grande  to  build  two  hundred  and  fifty  miles  of  railroad  over 
mountains  and  wide  plains  which  of  themselves  would  never  support  the 
line.  Faith  in  these  mineral  treasures  has  caused  hundreds  of  men  to 
follow  the  railway,  and  has  set  on  foot  little  towns  all  along  its  track ; 
and  a  part  of  the  same  faith  is  all  that  keeps  alive  the  thriving  town, 
Duraugo,  where  scores  of  well  packed  warehouses  vie  with  one  another 
in  plethoras  of  merchandise,  and  thousands  of  men  are  exciting  each 
other  in  pushing,  plucky  struggles  after  the  supremacy  of  wealth.  The 
miner  picks  away  at  his  rock,  and  hopefully  pays  for  his  supplies  until 
the  last  dollar  is  gone,  and  then  goes  at  work  earning  more  in  the  service 
of  his  more  fortunate  companion.  The  patronage  of  these  men,  always 
just  on  the  brink  of  a  "  rich  strike,"  is  what  keeps  this  southern  Denver — 
scarcely  four  years  old  yet— alive  and  sturdy.  The  precious  minerals 
can  only  be  procured  in  this  region  by  hard  and  skillful  labor  ;  they  are 
not  in  carbonate-beds  or  placer-bars,  to  be  picked  to  pieces  and  reduced 
at  trifling  cost.  On  the  other  hand,  they  are  richer,  and  while  the  profits 
are  no  less  than  in  the  former  case,  the  expense  of  getting  out  is  several 
times  greater.  This  means  the  disbursement  of  far  more  money  in  the 
locality  for  the  same  amount  of  value  received  from  the  mines  by  the 
owners,  than  in  an  easier  district  to  work  —  Leadville,  for  example. 
Thus  an  ore  which  would  yield  only  sixty  dollars  to  the  ton  will  pay  to 
work,  very  likely,  in  a  carbonate  camp,  since  it  would  cost  only  ten 
dollars  to  get  it  out  and  through  the  smelter  ;  while  to  get  the  same 
profit  on  a  ton  of  San  Juan  ore,  it  must  carry  one  hundred  dollars  to  the 
ton,  say,  since  it  requires  fifty  dollars  to  mine  it.  Thus  for  every  ten 
dollars  spent  in  an  easy  locality,  five  times  as  much  must  be  expended 
here;  or,  in  other  words,  five  times  the  population  maintained  under  the 
former  circumstances,  will  be  supported  here,  and  be  permanent,  for 
fissure-veins  do  not  produce  spasmodic  and  uneven  results,  but  continu- 
ous, progressive  and  practically  inexhaustible  supplies  of  ore  for  the 
proprietor,  wages  for  his  workman  and  business  for  the  merchant, 
artisan  and  shipper.  All  this  is  the  best  kind  of  an  outlook,  and  means 
that  the  San  Juan  will  always  be  a  good  country  for  the  man  of  mod- 
erate means,  although  the  mining  speculator  may  consider  it  too  solid 
and  tangible  to  suit  his  purposes,  and  therefore  be  loath  to  praise  it. 


XV 

THE  ANTIQUITIES  OF  THE  RIO  SAN  JUAN. 


Dismantled  towers  and  turrets  broken, 

Like  grim  and  war-worn  braves  who  keep 
A  silent  guard,  with  grief  unspoken, 

Watch  o'er  the  graves  by  the  Hoven  weep, 
The  nameless  graves  of  a  race  forgotten; 

Whose  deeds,  whose  words,  whose  fate  are  one, 
With  the  mist,  long  ages  past  begotten 

Of  the  sun.  —STANLEY  WOOD. 

IME  forbade  a  side  excursion  from  Durango  to  the 
Mancos  Canon,  though  we  were  extremely  anxious  to 
make  it, — /  because  I  had  been  there  before,  and  the 
rest  because  they  were  eager  to  see  what  I  had  told 
them  of. 

The  Rio  Mancos  is  the  next  tributary  of  the  Rio 
San  Juan  west  of  the  Rio  de  la  Plata.  When,  in  1874,  I  was  a  member 
of  the  photographic  division  of  the  United  States  Geological  and 
Geographical  Survey,  one  of  the  main  objects  of  our  trip  was  the 
exploration  of  this  remote  corner  of  the  State,  where  we  had  vaguely 
heard  of  marvelous  relics  of  a  bygone  civilization  uneqtialed  by  any- 
thing short  of  the  splendid  ruins  of  Central  America  and  the  land  of  the 
Incas.  After  traversing  the  frightfully  rugged  trails  of  the  San  Juan 
and  La  Plata  mountains,  therefore,  a  portion  of  our  party  came  out  on 
the  southern  margin  of  the  mountains,  and,  despite  the  smoldering 
hostility  of  the  Indians,  with  which  the  region  was  filled,  headed 
southward  into  the  long  deserted  canons.  There  were  five  of  us,  alto- 
gether,— Mr.  W.  H.  Jackson  (from  whose  skillful  camera  came  many 
of  the  illustrations  that  grace  my  present  text),  the  famous  Captain  John 
Moss,  who  went  with  us  as  "guide,  philosopher  and  friend,"  myself 
and  two  mule  packers. 

The  trail  led  from  Parrott  City,  then  a  nameless  prospect  camp, 
washing  gold  without  a  thought  of  the  silver  ledges  to  be  developed  later 
there,  over  to  Merritt's  pleasant  ranch  on  the  upper  Rio  Mancos,  then 
across  rolling  grass  land  and  through  groves  of  magnificent  lumber 
pines,  a  distance  of  about  fifteen  miles.  Spending  one  night  at  the 
ranch,  sunrise  the  next  morning  found  us  eager  to  enter  the  portals  of 
the  canon  and  the  precincts  of  the  area  within  which  glorious  dis- 
coveries in  anthropology  allured  our  imagination  and  made  light  the 
toil  and  privation  of  the  undertaking. 

156 


ANIMAS  CANON  AND  THE   NEEDLES. 


158  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

Not  five  hundred  yards  below  the  ranch  we  came  upon  our  first 
find, — mounds  of  earth  which  had  accumulated  over  fallen  houses,  and 
about  which  were  strewn  an  abundance  of  fragments  of  pottery,  vari- 
ously painted  in  colors,  often  glazed  within,  and  impressed  in  various 
designs.  Later  the  perpendicular,  buttress-like  walls  that  hemmed  in 
the  valley  began  to  contract,  and  that  night  we  camped  under  some 
forlorn  cedars,  just  beneath  a  bluff  a  thousand  feet  of  so  in  height, 
which,  for  its  upper  half,  was  absolutely  vertical.  This  was  the  edge  of 
the  green  table-land,  or  mem  verde,  which  stretches  over  hundreds  of 
square  miles,  and  is  cleft  by  these  cracks  or  canons,  through  which 
the  drainage  of  the  northern  uplands  finds  its  way  into  the  Rio  8an 
Juan. 

In  wandering  about  after  supper,  something  like  a  house  was  dis- 
cerned away  up  on  the  face  of  this  bluff,  and  two  of  us  clambered  over 
the  talus  of  loose  debris,  across  a  great  stratum  of  pure  coal,  and,  by 
dint  of  much  pushing  and  pulling,  up  to  the  ledge  upon  which  it  stood. 
We  came  down  satisfied,  and  next  morning  Mr.  Jackson  carried  up  our 
photographic  kit  and  got  some  superb  negatives.  There,  seven  hundred 
measured  feet  above  the  valley,  perched  on  a  little  ledge  only  just  large 
enough  to  hold  it,  was  a  two  story  house  made  of  finely  cut  sandstone, 
each  block  about  fourteen  by  six  inches,  accurately  fitted  and  set  in 
mortar  now  harder  than  the  stone  itself.  The  floor  was  the  ledge  upon 
which  it  rested,  and  the  roof  the  overhanging  rock.  There  were  three 
rooms  upon  the  ground  floor,  each  one  six  by  nine  feet,  with  partition 
walls  of  faced  stone.  Between  the  stories  was  originally  a  wooden  floor, 
traces  of  which  still  remained,  as  did  also  the  cedar  sticks  set  in  the 
wall  over  the  windows  and  door;  but  this  was  over  the  front  room  only, 
the  height  of  the  rocky  roof  behind  not  being  sufficient  to  allow  an 
attic  there.  Each  of  the  stories  was  six  feet  in  height,  and  all  the 
rooms,  upstairs  and  down,  were  nicely  plastered  and  painted  what  now 
looks  a  dull  brick  red  color,  with  a  white  band  along  the  floor  like  a 
base-board.  There  was  a  low  doorway  from  the  ledge  into  the  lower 
story,  and  another  above,  showing  that  the  upper  chamber  was  entered 
from  without.  The  windows  were  square  aA  ertures,  with  no  indication 
of  any  glazing  or  shutters.  They  commanded  a  view  of  the  whole 
valley  for  many  miles.  Near  the  house  several  convenient  little  niches 
in  the  rock  were  built  into  better  shape,  as  though  they  had  been  used 
as  cupboards  or  caches;  and  behind  it  a  semi-circular  wall  inclosing  the 
angle  of  the  house  and  cliff  formed  a  water  reservoir  holding  two  and  a 
half  hogsheads.  The  water  was  taken  out  of  this  from  a  window  of  the 
upper  room.  In  front  of  the  house,  which  was  the  left  side  to  one 
facing  the  bluff,  an  esplanade  had  been  built  to  widen  the  narrow  ledge 
and  probably  furnish  a  commodious  place  for  a  kitchen.  The  abutments 
which  supported  it  were  founded  upon  a  smooth,  steeply-inclined  face 
of  rock ;  yet  so  consummate  was  their  skill  in  masonry  that  these  abut- 


HOMES   OF  THE  CLIFF  DWELLERS.  159 

ments  still  stand,  although  it  would  seein  that  a  pound's  weight  might 
slide  them  off. 

Searching  further  in  this  vicinity,  we  found  remains  of  many 
houses  on  the  same  ledge,  and  some  perfect  ones  above  it  quite  inac- 
cessible. The  rocks  also  bore  some  inscriptions.  Many  edifices  in  the 
cliffs  escaped  our  notice.  The  glare  over  everything,  and  the  fact  that 
the  buildings,  being  formed  of  the  rock  on  which  they  rested,  were 
identical  in  color  with  it,  increasing  the  difficulty  made  sufficiently  great 
by  their  altitude. 

Leaving  here,  we  soon  came  upon  traces  of  houses  in  the  bottom  of 
the  valley,  in  the  greatest  profusion,  nearly  all  of  which  were  entirely 
destroyed,  and  broken  pottery  everywhere  abounded.  The  majority  of 
the  buildings  were  square,  but  many  round,  and  one  sort  of  ruin  always 
showed  two  square  buildings  with  very  deep  cellars  under  them  and  a 
round  tower  between  them,  seemingly  for  watch  and  defense.  In 
several  cases  a  large  part  of  this  tower  was  still  standing.  The  best 
example  of  this  consisted  of  two  perfectly  circular  walls  of  cut  stone, 
one  within  the  other.  The  diameter  of  the  inner  circle  was  twenty-two 
feet  and  of  the  outer  thirty-three  feet.  The  walls  Were  thick  and  were 
perforated  apparently  by  three  equi-distant  doorways.  At  that  time  we 
concluded  this  double- walled  tower  (later  triple  walled  structures  of  the 
same  sort  were  met  with)  must  have  had  a  religious  use;  but  since  then 
I  have  wondered  whether  all  of  these  round  buildings  above  ground 
(save  some  which  manifestly  were  watch  towers)  were  not  used  as  store- 
houses for  snow.  It  was  a  country  of  long  droughts  and  hot  summers. 
The  double  or  triple  walls,  with  spaces  of  dead  air  between  would  make 
excellent  refrigerators. 

These  groups  of  destroyed  edifices,  occupying  the  bottom-land, 
were  met  with  all  day;  but  no  other  perfect  cliff-houses  were  found 
until  next  morning,  when  a  little  cave  high  up  from  the  ground  was 
found,  which  had  been  utilized  as  a  homestead  by  being  built  full  of  low 
houses  communicating  with  one  another,  some  of  which  were  intact, 
and  had  been  appropriated  by  wild  animals.  About  these  dwellings 
were  more  hieroglyphics  scratched  on  the  wall,  and  plenty  of  pottery, 
but  no  implements.  Further  on  were  similar,  but  rather  ruder,  struc- 
tures on  a  rocky  bluff,  but  so  strongly  were  they  put  together  that  the 
tooth  of  time  had  found  them  hard  gnawing;  and,  in  one  instance, 
while  that  portion  of  the  cliff  upon  which  a  certain  house  rested  had 
cracked  off  and  fallen  away  some  distance  without  rolling,  the  house 
itself  had  remained  solid  and  upright.  Traces  of  the  trails  to  many  of 
these  dwellings,  and  the  steps  cut  in  the  rock,  were  still  visible,  and 
were  useful  indications  of  the  proximity  of  buildings  otherwise  unno- 
ticed. Yet,  despite  our  watchfulness,  Mr.  Holmes'  party,  which  went 
next  year  to  study  the  details  of  the  broad  prehistoric  picture  our  rapid 
trip  sketched  out,  brought  to  light  several  fine  buildings,  high  above  the 


160  THE   CHEST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

valley,  in  some  of  which  valuable  implements  and  utensils  were  dis- 
covered. None  of  them  were  so  high,  though,  or  in  better  condition 
than  one  of  our  prizes  this  second  day. 

Keeping  close  under  the  mesa,  on  the  western  side  (you  never  find 
houses  on  the  eastern  cliff  of  a  canon,  where  the  morning  sun  could  not 
strike  them  full  with  its  first  beams)  one  of  us  espied  what  he  thought 
to  be  a  house  on  the  face  of  a  particularly  high  and  smooth  portion  of 
the  precipice,  which  there  jutted  out  into  a  promontory,  up  one  side  of 
which  it  seemed  we  could  climb  to  the  top  of  the  mesa  above  the 
house,  whence  it  might  be  possible  to  crawl  down  to  it.  Fired  with  the 
hope  of  getting  some  valuable  relics  of  household  furniture  in  such  a 
place,  one  of  the  gentlemen  volunteered  to  make  the  attempt,  and  suc- 
ceeded. He  found  it  well  preserved,  almost  semi-circular  in  shape,  of 
the  finest  workmanship  yet  seen,  all  the  stones  being  cut  true,  a  foot 
wide,  sixteen  inches  long  and  three  inches  thick,  ground  perfectly 
smooth  on  the  inside  so  as  to  require  no  plastering.  It  was  about  six  by 
twenty  feet  in  interior  dimensions  and  six  feet  high.  The  door  and 
window  were  bounded  by  lintels,  sills  and  caps  of  single  flat  stones. 
Yet  all  this  was  done,  so  far  as  we  can  learn,  with  no  other  tools  than 
those  made  of  stone,  and  in  such  a  place  that  you  might  drop  a  pebble 
out  of  the  window  500  feet  plumb. 

Photographs  and  sketches  completed,  we  pushed  on,  rode  twenty 
miles  or  more,  and  camped  two  miles  beyond  Unagua  springs.  There 
were  about  these  springs,  which  are  at  the  base  of  the  Ute  mountain, 
the  tallest  summit  of  the  Sierra  u  Late,  formerly  many  large  buildings, 
the  relics  of  which  are  very  impressive.  One  of  them  is  two  hundred 
feet  square,  with  a  wall  twenty  feet  thick,  and  inclosed  in  the  center  a 
circular  building  one  hundred  feet  in  circumference.  Another,  near  by, 
was  one  hundred  feet  square,  with  equally  thick  walls,  and  was  divided 
north  and  south  by  a  very  heavy  partition.  This  building  communi- 
cated with  the  great  stone  reservoir  about  the  springs.  These  heavy 
walls  were  constructed  of  outer  strong  walls  of  cut  sandstone,  regularly 
laid  in  mortar,  filled  in  with  firmly  packed  fragments  of  stone.  Some 
portions  of  the  wall  still  stand  twenty  or  thirty  feet  in  height,  but,  judg- 
ing from  the  amount  of  material  thrown  down,  the  building  must  origin- 
ally have  been  a  very  lofty  one.  About  these  large  edifices  were  traces 
of  smaller  ones,  covering  half  a  square  mile,  and  out  in  the  plain  another 
small  village  indicated  by  a  collection  of  knol  \s.  Scarcely  anything  now 
but  white  sage  grows  thereabouts,  but  there  is  reason  to  believe  that  in 
those  old  times  it  was  under  careful  cultivation.  Evidently  these  thick 
walls  were  the  foundations  of  old  terraced  pueblos,  an  unusually  large 
community  having  grown  up  about  these  plentiful  springs,  just  as  at 
Taos,  San  Juan,  Zuni,  and  the  present  Moqui  villages  in  Arizona. 

Our  next  day's  march  was  westerly,  leaving  the  mesa  bluffs  on  our 
right  and  gradually  behind.  The  road  was  an  interesting  one,  intel- 


ANCIENT  WATCH  TOWERS.  161 

lectually,  but  not  at  all  so  physically  —  dry,  hot,  dusty,  long  and  weari- 
some. We  passed  a  number  of  quite  perfect  houses,  perched  high  up  on 
rocky  bluffs,  and  many  other  remains.  One  occupied  the  whole  apex 
of  a  great  conical  bowlder,  that  ages  ago  had  become  detached  from  its 
mother  mountain  and  rolled  out  into  the  valley.  Another,  worth  men- 
tion, was  a  round  tower,  beautifully  laid  up,  which  surmounted  an 
immense  bowlder  that  had  somehow  rolled  to  the  very  verge  of  a  lofty 
cliff  overlooking  the  whole  valley.  This  was  a  watch-tower,  and  we 
learned  afterward  that  almost  all  the  high  points  were  occupied  by  such 
sentinel  boxes.  From  it  a  deeply  worn,  devious  trail  led  up  over  the 
edge  of  the  mesa,  by  following  which  we  should,  no  doubt,  have  found 
a  whole  town.  But  this  was  only  a  reconnoissance,  and  we  could  not 
now  stop  to  follow  out  all  indications. 

Not  far  away  the  odd  appearance  of  a  cliff  attracted  my  attention, 
and  leaving  the  party  I  rode  over  the  bare,  white,  rocky  floors  which 
capped  all  the  low,  broad  ridges,  to  find  a  long  series  of  shallow  grottos 
in  the  escarpment  rilled  with  houses,  some  of  which  were  roofed  over, 
but  most  consisting  simply  of  walls  carried  to  the  ceiling  of  the  light, 
dry  cavern  in  the  sandstone,  often  only  one  or  two  houses  occupying 
each  of  the  small  caves,  whose  openings  were  in  the  same  water  worn 
stratum,  and  only  a  few  feet  or  yards  apart.  Still  more  curious  exam- 
ples of  these  cave-dwellings  have  been  seen  since  in  the  same  neigh- 
borhood, and  lower  down.  For  example,  on  the  San  Juan,  in  1875, 
Holmes  and  Jackson  discovered,  half  way  between  top  and  bottom  of 
a  bluff  where  a  stratum  of  shaly  sandstone  had  been  weathered  and 
dug  out  to  a  depth  of  six  feet,  leaving  a  firm  floor  and  a  projecting 
ledge  overhead,  a  continuous  row  of  buildings,  though  none  have  their 
front  walls  now  remaining.  Doorways  through  each  of  the  dividing 
walls  afforded  access  along  the  whole  line.  A  few  rods  up  stream  a  little, 
niched  cave-house,  14x5x6,  divided  into  two  equal  compartments;  a 
small,  square  window,  just  large  enough  for  one  to  crawl  through,  was 
placed  midway  in  the  wall  of  each  half.  "  We  well  might  ask  whether 
these  little  '  cubby-holes '  had  ever  been  used  as  residences,  or,  whether, 
as  seems  at  first  most  likely,  they  might  not  have  been  '  caches,'  or  merely 
temporary  places  of  refuge.  While,  no  doubt,  many  of  them  were  such, 
yet  in  the  majority  the  evidences  of  use  and  the  presence  of  long-con- 
tinued fires,  indicated  by  their  smoke-blackened  interiors,  prove  them 
to  have  been  quite  constantly  occupied.  Among  all  dwellers  in  mud- 
plastered  houses,  it  is  the  practice  to  freshen  up  their  habitations  by 
repeated  applications  of  clay,  moistened  to  the  proper  consistency,  and 
spread  with  the  hands,  the  thickness  of  the  coating  depending  upon  its 
consistency.  Every  such  application  makes  a  building  perfectly  new, 
and  many  of  the  best  sheltered  cave  houses  have  just  this  appearance, 
as  though  they  were  but  just  vacated." 

The  grandest  of  all  these  cave  shelters,  perhaps,  was  that  in  the 
7* 


162 


THE  CREST  OF  THE   CONTINENT. 


Montezuma  canon,  the  main  building  of  which  was  forty-eight  feet 
long,  and  built  of  well  smoothed  stones.  "In  the  rubbish  of  the  large 
house,"  says  the  report,  "some  small  stone  implements,  rough,  indented 
pottery  in  fragments,  and  a  few  arrow-points  were  found.  .  .  . 
The  whole  appearance  of  the  place  and  its  surroundings  indicates  that 
the  family  or  the  little  community  who  inhabited  it  were  in  good  cir- 
cumstances and  the  lords  of  the  surrounding  countiy.  Looking  out 
from  one  of  their  houses,  with  a  great  dome  of  solid  rock  overhead,  that 


SILVERTON   AND   SULTAN    MOUNTAIN. 

echoed  and  re-echoed  every  word  uttered  with  marvelous  distinctness, 
and  below  them  a  steep  descent  of  one  hundred  feet,  to  the  broad,  fer- 
tile valley  of  the  Rio  San  Juan,  covered  with  waving  fields  of  maize  and 
scattered  groves  of  majestic  cotton  woods,  these  old  people,  whom  even- 
the  imagination  can  hardly  clothe  with  reality,  must  have  felt  a  sense 
of  security  that  even  the  incursions  of  their  barbarous  foes  could  hardly 
have  disturbed." 

But  I  cannot  linger  over  these  extremely  interesting  and  instructive 
ruins,  nor  stop  to  tell  of  the  variety  and  skill  shown  in  their  architec- 
ture, in  their  storage  of  water  and  food,  in  their,  means  of  defense,  in 
their  manufacture  of  utensils,  and  the  art  with  which  their  life  was 


i  MYSTERIOUS  PEOPLE.  163 

adorned.  Out  of  the  hundreds  of  leveled  pueblos,  cave-houses,  towers, 
water-reservoirs  and  wasted  fields  which  once  bore  bountiful  harvests,  I 
have  only  culled  one  here  and  there.  I  may  say  that  not  only  every 
canon  which  cuts  down  through  the  mesa  to  the  Rio  San  Juan  and  into 
all  of  its  lower  tributary  valleys,  but  many  of  the  plateaus  between,  are 
occupied  by  the  ruins  which  show  an  Indian  occupation  previous  to 
the  present  savages,  and  of  a  different  rank,  if  not  of  another  race. 

Particularly  accessible  to  the  ordinary  tourist  are  the  ruins  to  be 
seen  in  the  Animas  valley,  about  twenty-five  miles  south  of  Durango. 
These  are  said  to  consist  of  a  pueblo  three  hundred  and  sixteen  feet 
long  by  nearly  one  hundred  wide,  which  evidently  rose  to  the  height  of 
many  stories.  Some  of  the  lower  rooms  in  this  great  house  are  still 
standing,  and  skeletons  and  relics  of  great  interest  have  been  taken  from 
them.  In  the  center  of  the  ruins  is  a  subterranean,  cistern- like  chamber, 
described  as  about  sixty  feet  in  diameter,  and  plastered  everywhere 
within  with  hard  cement.  This,  probably,  was  the  main  eslufa  of  the' 
village.  Other  lesser  ruins  and  remains  of  farming  operations  are  scat- 
tered about  the  vicinity,  and  are  well  worthy  of  exploration. 

Just  who  and  what  were  these  aborigines  (if  so  they  were,  which  is 
very  doubtful),  opinions  differ;  but  that  in  the  Village  Indians  of  New 
Mexico  and  Arizona  we  see  to-day  their  lineal  descendants,  seems  indis- 
putable. 

Traditions  are  few,  that  have  any  ralue,  but  the  partial  and 
imperfect  researches  which  have  already  been  made  in  the  southwest 
enable  us  to  make  out  dimly  some  strangely  tragical  scheme  of  history 
for  this  race  of  men  whose  sun  set  so  long  ago. 

It  is  evident,  for  example,  that  the  most  ancient  of  these  prehistoric 
ruins  are  those  found  along  the  immediate  banks  of  the  water-courses  in 
the  valleys.  There  the  forerunners  of  the  troublous  times  to  come  dwelt 
in  peace  and  prosperity  among  their  fields,  which  seem  to  have  stretched 
over  many  times  the  area  of  land  now  possible  to  be  cultivated.  There 
is  no  question,  indeed,  that  in  those  days  rains  were  more  frequent  and 
the  climate  far  more  favorable  to  agriculture  than  at  present.  But  how 
many  generations — how  many  centuries — ago  was  this  ?  And  how  did 
the  change  of  climate,  which  turned  the  fertility  of  the  land  into  deso- 
lation, come  about — by  slow  degrees,  through  sudden  cataclysm,  or  with 
comparatively  rapid  advance  ?  Probably  gradually. 

But  it  does  not  seem  to  have  been  as  the  result  of  meteorological 
disfavor  that  they  abandoned  their  populous  pueblos  in  the  pleasant 
valleys  and  began  to  build  refuge  homes  in  the  niches  of  the  canon's 
wall,  or  on  the  crest  of  inaccessible  mesas.  From  the  mountainous 
north  came  enemies  they  were  unable  to  resist,  and  which  devastated 
their  fields  and  laid  waste  their  towns,  as  we  have  seen  at  Ojo  Caliente, 
and  as  is  written  in  the  ruins  of  a  hundred  spring-side  pueblos  through- 
out the  San  Juan  valley.  No  doubt  they  still  cultivated  their  fields  as 


164  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

well  as  they  could  between  the  times  of  attack,  building  temporary 
summer-houses  and  spending  the  idle  winter  in  their  rocky  fastnesses,  or 
retreating  to  them  when  warned  of  an  attack.  Their  watch-towers  on 
every  exposed  point,  tell  how  sharp  and  incessant  was  the  lookout  they 
kept  against  the  well-mounted  and  savage  nomadic  tribes,  the  prehistoric 
Utes  and  Apaches  and  Navajos,  who  were  to  them  as  the  Scythians  and 
the  Vandals  and  Goths  to  the  weakened  empire  of  effeminate  Rome. 

But  after  a  time  a  breathing  space  seems  to  have  come  to  the  har- 
assed people,  and  they  felt  themselves  safe  to  return  to  their  ancient 
valleys  and  reinhabit  and  recultivate  them.  Certain  houses,  built  upon 
the  substratum  of  older  fallen  structures,  seem  to  show  this  new  era  of 
reoccupation,  which  in  some  places  lasted  only  a  short  time  before  ene- 
mies and  drought  together  compelled  complete  abandonment,  while  in 
other  more  southern  strongholds  were  founded  the  pueblos  that  still 
exist,  at  Taos,  Acoma,  Zuiii,  and  on  the  Moqui  mesas. 

When,  some  day,  you  can  ride  down  the  Mancos  in  a  railway  car 
and  get  flying  glimpses  of  the  ruined  houses — if  your  eyes  are  sharp  to 
see  and  your  mind  quick  to  apprehend, —  do  not  forget  how  populous 
was  this  dry  and  garish  valley  during  those  bygone  days,  when  the  Cru- 
saders were  waking  up  Europe,  and  all  that  was  known  of  America  was 
that  the  Basque  fishermen  went  to  the  fog-banks  of  an  icy  western  coast 
to  catch  codfish.  I  am  more  sure  of  your  interest  here,  though,  than  in 
many  other  far-paraded  precincts  of  this  marvelous  realm,  I  am  taking 
you  so  swiftly  through  in  my  pilgrimage  on  wheels.  And  I  cannot 
enforce  my  point  better, —  leave  an  impression  more  lasting  and  graceful 
on  your  minds  of  those  gentle  shepherds  and  husbandmen  (but  no  less 
brave  warriors),  who  were  here  so  long  before  us,  than  by  giving  you 
the  poem  my  clever-brained  and  genial  friend  has  written  in  Swin- 
burnian  measure  about  them  : 

44  In  the  sad  South-west,  in  the  mystical  Sunland, 

Far  from  the  toil,  and  the  turmoil  of  gain; 
Hid  in  the  heart  of  the  only — the  one  land 

Beloved  of  the  Sun,  and  bereft  of  the  rain; 
The  one  weird  land  where  the  wild  winds  blowing, 

Sweep  with  a  wail  o'er  the  plains  of  the  dead, 
A  ruin,  ancient  beyond  all  knowing, 

Hears  its  head. 
"  On  the  canon's  side,  in  the  ample  hollow, 

That  the  keen  winds  carved  in  ages  past, 
The  Castle  walls,  like  the  nest  of  a  swallow 

Have  clung  and  have  crumbled  to  this  at  last. 
The  ages  since  man's  foot  has  rested 

Within  these  walls,  no  man  may  know; 
For  here  the  fierce  grey  eagle  nested 

Long  ago. 
44  Above  those  walls  the  crags  lean  over, 

Below,  they  dip  to  the  river's  bed; 
Between,  fierce  winge*d  creatures  hover, 

Beyond,  the  plain's  wild  waste  is  spread. 


SWINBURNIAN  MEASURES.  165 

No  foot  has  climbed  the  pathway  dizzy, 

That  crawls  away  from  the  blasted  heath, 
Since  last  It  felt  the  ever  busy 

Foot  of  Death. 

"  In  that  haunted  Castle — It  must  be  haunted, 

For  men  have  lived  here,  and  men  have  died, 
And  maidens  loved,  and  lovers  daunted, 

Have  hoped  and  feared,  have  laughed  and  sighed— 
In  that  haunted  Castle  the  dust  has  drifted, 

But  the  eagles  only  may  hope  to  see 
What  shattered  Shrines  and  what  Altars  rifted, 

There  may  be. 

*  The  white,  bright  rays  of  the  sunbeam  sought  It, 

The  cold,  clear  light  of  the  moon  fell  here, 
The  west  wind  sighed,  and  the  south  wind  brought  It, 

Songs  of  Summer  year  after  year. 
Runes  of  Summer,  but  mute  and  runeless, 

The  Castle  stood;  no  voice  was  heard, 
Save  the  harsh,  discordant,  wild  and  tuneless 

Cry  of  bird. 

"  The  spring  rains  poured,  and  the  torrent  rifted 

A  deeper  way;— the  foam-flakes  fell, 
Held  for  a  moment  poised  and  lifted, 

Down  to  a  fiercer  whirlpool's  hell. 
On  the  Castle  tower  no  guard,  in  wonder, 

Paused  in  his  marching  to  and  fro, 
For  on  the  turret  the  mighty  thunder 

Found  no  foe. 

"  No  voice  of  Spring, — no  Summer  glories 

May  wake  the  warders  from  their  sleep, 
Their  graves  are  made  by  the  sad  Dolores, 

And  the  barren  headlands  of  Hoven-weep. 
Their  graves  are  nameless — Their  race  forgotten, 

Their  deeds,  their  words,  their  fate,  are  one 
With  the  mist,  long  ages  past  begotten, 

Of  the  Sun. 

"  Those  castled  cliffs  they  made  their  dwelling, 

They  lived  and  loved,  they  fought  and  fell, 
No  faint,  far  voice  comes  to  us  telling 

More  than  those  crumbling  walls  can  tell. 
They  lived  their  life,  their  fate  fulfilling, 

Then  drew  their  last  faint,  faltering  breath, 
Their  hearts,  congealed,  clutched  by  the  chilling 

Hand  of  Death. 

"Dismantled  towers,  and  turrets  broken, 

Like  grim  and  war-worn  braves  who  keep 
A  silent  guard,  with  grief  unspoken, 

Watch  o'er  the  graves  by  the  Hoven-weep. 
The  nameless  graves  of  a  race  forgotten; 

Whose  deeds,  whose  words,  whose  fate  are  one 
With  the  mist,  long  ages  past  begotten, 

Of  the  Sun." 


XVI 

ON  THE  UPPER  RIO  GRANDE. 


O  wonderful,  wonderful,  and  most  wonderful  wonderful,  and  yet  again  wonderful 
and  after  that  out  of  all  whooping. 

— MEBOHANT  OF  VENICE  Hi,  2. 


FF  to  Del  Norte  and  Wagon  Wheel  Gap!  That  meant 
a  long  run.  We  might  have  gone  afoot  across  the 
Cunningham  Pass  and  down  the  Alpine  fastness  of  the 
Rio  Grande's  birthplace  almost  as  speedily  as  the  train 
would  take  us,  back  to  Durango,  over  the  heights  and 
glories  of  Toltec,  down  the  mazy  labyrinth  of  the 
Whiplash,  and  across  the  sheep  pastures  of  San  Luis.  But  we  were  in 
no  hurry,  and  by  preparing  had  the  jolliest  time  you  can  imagine  the 
whole  way.  At  Alamosa  we  bid  a  reluctant  farewell  to  our  three  com- 
panions, the  Artist,  the  Photographer  and  the  Musician,  who  can  no 
longer  spare  to  us  their  society.  But  our  prospective  loneliness  is  miti- 
gated by  a  new  comer, — an  old  college  friend.  I  shall  introduce  him  to 
the  reader  as  Chum,  because  that  was  the  ordinary  way  in  which  we 
dispensed  with  his  name. 

"  A  merrier  man 

Within  the  limit  of  becoming  mirth 
I  never  spent  an  hour's  talk  withal." 

Here,  the  good-bye  and  the  welcome  given  in  the  same  breath,  we 
change  our  cars  to  a  new  train  headed  westward  toward  the  upper 
course  of  the  Rio  Grande,  with  its  farms  and  mines  and  medicinal 
springs. 

The  track  is  laid  right  across  San  Luis  park,  which  is  to  become, 
through  irrigation,  one  of  the  richest  agricultural  regions  in  the  world 
By  and  bye,  the  dull  line  under  the  horizon  began  to  form  itself  into 
trees,  and  among  these  we  could  distinguish  the  scattered  log  and  adobe 
dwellings  and  the  half-cultivated  little  farms  of  Mexican  ranchmen.  The 
bottoms  of  the  Rio  Grande  now  spread  wide  around  us,  with  bushes  and 
trees,  and  tall,  rich  grass,  and  a  few  miles  further  on  we  came  to  the 
town  amid  a  group  of  picturesquely  broken  volcanic  bluffs  of  great  size. 
This  is  a  sort  of  postern-gate  for  the  San  Juan  mining  region,  and  also 
for  Lake  City,  Ouray  and  the  San  Miguel. 

Only  a  postern-gate,  for  now  the  railway  southward  carries  the 
passenger  to  Durango  and  Silverton,  and  the  Salt  Lake  line  makes  an 

166 


SUMMIT  GOLD  MINES.  167 

easy  entrance  to  the  northern  slope  of  the  Sierra  Madre;  but,  a  few  years 
ago  Del  Norte  was  the  last  outfitting  point  for  those  going  into  all  that 
region,  and  the  first  real  civilization  encountered  on  the  return.  Under 
the  "  boom  "  of  this  patronage  the  old  Mexican  ranch  center  became  an 
American  town  of  some  size  and  importance  almost  ten  years  ago.  and 
its  people  thought  they  were  soon  to  be  the  metropolis  of  the  southwest. 
But  such  has  not  yet  appeared  to  be  their  destiny,  and  a  snug,  stirring 
little  village  of  twelve  or  fifteen  hundred  people  is  all  that  the  settlement 
has  developed  into.  It  is  charmingly  placed,  and  there  is  so  much  land 
along  the  river,  both  above  and  below,  which  is  cultivated  by  both 
Mexicans  and  Americans  (chiefly  in  the  line  of  hay),  and  so  many  sheep, 
cattle  and  horses  are  owned  and  sold  there,  that  this  interest  alone  will 
support  the  village  and  enable  it  to  grow  slowly. 

But  pleasant  Del  Norte  has  more  than  this  to  rely  upon.  Twenty- 
eight  miles  back  in  the  mountains  of  the  Continental  divide  are  the 
famous  Summit  gold  mines.  The  richness  of  these  mines  (as  they  appear 
at  present)  is  almost  inconceivable — it  equals  the  fabled  El  Dorado  so 
many  brave  fellows  have  died  in  their  effort  to  find.  The  railway 
express  company,  in  the  three  months  following  the  advent  of  the  road 
at  Del  Norte,  forwarded  to  the  Denver  mint  $300,000  in  gold  bars. 
I  have  seen  and  handled  many  pieces  of  this  reddish,  rusty,  honey- 
combed quartz,  in  which  you  cpuld  see  the  gold  as  thickly  and  plainly 
as  the  pepper  on  sliced  cucumbers.  There  were  streaks  of  it,  maybe 
half  an  inch  wide,  where  the  material  was  more  than  half  its  weight, 
pure,  visible  gold. 

Prospecting  on  South  mountain  in  1874  (or  before  that)  men  found 
these  ledges,  and  various  claims  were  staked  off,  and,  in  1875,  stamp 
mills  were  erected,  which  at  once  began  grinding  out  thousands  of 
dollars  a  day  and  saving  only  about  sixty  per  cent,  of  the  gold,  the 
remainder  running  off  in  the  tailings  because  it  was  too  coarse  and 
heavy  to  be  caught  quickly  by  the  mercurial  batteries;  this  was  enough 
to  set  fire  to  the  tinder  of  the  gold-seeking  population,  which  is  always 
ready  to  stampede  to  a  new  camp,  and  in  1876  a  great  rush  to  the  Sum- 
mit district  happened.  The  whole  region  was  quickly  put  under  claim- 
stakes  and  a  dozen  respectable  mining  beginnings  were  made.  Among 
these  was  a  group  of  claims,  more  or  less  worked,  which  became  the 
property  of  a  corporation  called  the  San  Juan  Consolidated  Mining 
Company.  Their  principal  mine  was  the  "  Ida,"  and  their  most  intel- 
ligent stockholder  was  Judge,  now  United  States  Senator,  Thomas 
Bowen.  He  came  to  this  region  from  Arkansas  an  exceedingly  poor 
man,  though  in  early  life  he  had  been  a  wealthy  planter.  Elected  a 
justice  of  his  judicial  district,  he  plodded  on  foot  from  county  to 
county,  too  poor  to  own  a  horse.  For  seven  long  years,  the  story  goes, 
he  put  all  his  money  into  prospecting,  and  at  last  turned  up  here  at  the 
Summit.  Watching  the  way  in  which  the  "Consolidated"  property 


168 


THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 


was  being  handled,  he  concluded  that  its  managers  were  not  on  the 
right  track  and  would  speedily  come  to  a  halt;  furthermore,  he  had 
faith  that  he  could  right  the  mistake  if  he  had  the  power. 

As  he  anticipated,  the  stock  of  that  company  went  down  to  nothing. 
No  further  back  than  the  winter  of  1880-81,  its  shares  were  played  at 
poker  in  Del  Norte,  and  passed  over  the  bars  of  saloons  at  the  rate  of 

two  drinks  for  one 
share.  Bowen  quietly 
gathered  them  in, 
getting  $300,000 
worth,  it  is  stated, 
for  $75,  or  one- 
fourth  of  one  mill 
on  the  dollar.  Two 
or  three  others  saved 
up  smaller  amounts. 
When  the  Judge  had 
secured  a  controlling 
interest,  he  set  on 
foot  a  scheme  of 
new  development, 
and  very  shortly 
struck  this  fabu- 
lously rich  vein.  He 
persuaded  friends  in 
Denver  to  erect  a 
mill  on  terms  which 
have  resulted  in  the 
biggest  profits  a 
stamp-mill  ever  paid 
its  manufacturer,  I 
fancy,  and  Bowen 
suddenly  found  him- 
self a  Croesus.  He 

had  been  heavily  in  debt,  and  some  of  the  scores  against  him  had  long 
been  charged  to  loss  by  his  creditors,  but  he  paid  them  all  without 
noticing  the  drain  upon  his  uncounted  cotters.  Having  fought  the 
demon  of  poverty  in  its  most  tenacious  forms,  for  so  many  years,  this 
sudden  affluence  did  not  spoil  him,  but  he  glories  in  it  like  a  boy,  and  is 
never  more  pleased  than  when  he  can  make  it  tell  for  the  surprise  and 
happiness  of  some  old  companion  still  in  the  grip  of  misfortune. 

But  "Bowen's  bonanza"  is  not  the  only  one.  There  are  others  of 
perhaps  equal  merit  close  by,  and  1  have  no  doubt  many  more  will  be 
discovered.  For,  in  spite  of  all  the  bullion  which  has  this  year  been 
produced,  these  mines  are  as  yet  in  their  infancy.  I  suppose  the 


CLIFF  DWELLINGS. 


HOW  THE  GAP  WAS  NAMED.  169 

measure  of  half  a  mile  would  include  the  total  length  of  underground 
workings  in  all  of  them  together.  Who  shall  say  what  the  future  may 
not  disclose? 

Half  a  dozen  miles  across  the  mountain  from  the  Summit  is  a  flour- 
ishing little  settlement  of  prospectors  who  believe  they  have  struck  a 
profitable  lode  of  silver-galena ;  and  still  farther  beyond,  among  the 
springs  of  the  Rio  San  Juan,  lie  the  Cornwall  silver  mines,  where  much 
work  has  been  done.  The  principal  properties  are  on  the  Perry  lode, 
which  gives  sulphuret  of  silver.  Other  ores  there  vary  from  this,  how- 
ever, and  are  said  to  be  best  suited  to  the  lixiviation  process.  A  smelter 
has  been  purchased  for  that  locality.  Judge  Jones,  so  well  known  all 
over  southern  Colorado  for  his  steady  allegiance  to  everything  which 
savors  of  "San  Juan"  and  for  his  equal  hatred  of  whisky,  has  large 
visions  of  future  wealth  out  of  this  district. 

Now  the  whole  of  these  mines  and  trials  for  a  mine  are  so  much 
grist  to  Del  Norte's  mill.  So  long  as  they  keep  men  digging,  so  long 
she  will  thrive  exceptionally  and  remain  an  important  feeder  to  our 
railway. 

The  scenery  along  the  Rio  Grande,  above  Del  Norte,  is  very  fine, 
and  has  always  the  zest  of  human  interest  in  the  quaint  ranches  of  the 
Mexican  farmers,  whose  women  and  children  flock  out  to  see  every 
train  go  by.  Terraced  steeps  bound  the  river-valley  where  the  farms 
are,  at  a  little  distance,  on  the  right,  while  rounded  pine-clad  hills  slope 
upward  on  the  left.  We  see  this  part  of  the  river  on  our  way  to  Wagon 
Wheel  Gap,  a  place  for  which,  if  I  were  writing  a  separate  chapter,  I 
should  adopt  as  a  motto  the  words  of  Exodus:  "And  they  came  to 
Elim,  where  were  twelve  wells  of  water  and  three  score  and  ten  palm 
trees,  and  they  encamped  there  by  the  waters." 

"But  what  is  Wagon  Wheel  Gap,  and  how  did  it  get  such  a  name?  " 
asks  the  Madame. 

"  The  gap,"  it  is  thereupon  explained,  "is  a  noble  gateway,  thirty 
miles  west  of  Del  Norte,  through  which  the  Rio  Grande  breaks  out  of 
the  confinement  of  its  youth  in  the  San  Juan  mountains;  and  I  heard 
only  yesterday  how  it  come  by  its  name,  from  the  great  and  good  Judge 
Jones,  whose  narratives  most  happily  combine  both  facts  and  fancies. 

"  You  will  remember  what  we  heard  of  the  band  of  men  who  went 
into  the  San  Juan  mines  four  and-twenty  years  ago,  under  Colonel  Baker. 
Well,  there  was  a  part  of  that  story  you  have  not  heard  yet.  It  seems 
that  the  party  was  composed  of  Northern  and  of  Southern  men  in  nearly 
equal  numbers.  When  they  heard  that  war  had  broken  out  between  the 
Northern  States  and  the  hoped  for  '  Confederacy,'  there  was  added  to 
the  woe  of  disappointment,  diminished  food,  and  the  fear  of  Indians, 
the  bitterness  of  a  little  civil  war  among  those  who  previously  had  been 
compatriots  and  friends.  It  was  a  miserable  little  copy  of  the  great 
struggle,  but  it  resulted  in  disproportionate  sorrows,  for  a  panic  ensued, 
8 


170  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

in  which  the  men  of  the  party  broke  up  and  scattered  out  of  the  moun- 
tains by  every  available  passage,  a  prey  to  double  the  dangers  which 
would  have  menaced  them  had  they  stayed  together.  Some  tried  to 
take  their  wagons  out  piecemeal  over  Cunningham  Pass.  Putting  them 
together  on  the  eastern  side,  they  worked  their  way  down  to  Del  Norte, 
Fort  Garland,  and  so  to  Santa  Fe,  or  around  to  Denver.  But  they  often 
broke  down,  and  a  relic  of  this  panic-stricken  flight,  in  the  shape  of  a 
large  wagon  wheel,  found  by  Judge  Jones,  served  to  give  the  place  its 
peculiar  name.  To  distinguish  it  from  other  gaps  in  the  range  it  was 
spoken  of  as  '  the  gap  where  the  wagon  wheel  was  found,'  which  soon, 
by  natural  process  of  curtailment,  condensation  .and  transposition, 
became  'Wagon  Wheel  Gap,'  and  Wagon  Wheel  Gap  it  is,  even  unto 
this  day." 

The  gap  itself  is  a  cleft  through  a  great  hill;  or  it  is  two  half  hills 
(for  they  stand  not  squarely  opposite  one  another,  but  with  somewhat 
overlapping  ends  only)  each  vertically  faced  and  uprightly  seamed  on 
the  river  side,  but  sloping  away  into  a  grassy  ridge  behind.  The 
southern  end  of  the  bluffs,  which  also  is  the  farthest  up  stream,  is 
narrow  and  tower-like,  but  the  other,  rounding  out  and  swelling  high, 
in  the  center  has  a  breadth  of  half  a  mile  or  more,  the  river  washing  its 
bowed  base.  Of  about  the  same  height  as  the  Palisades  of  the  Hudson, 
and  like  them  marked  with  vertical  lines  of  cleavage,  this  bluff  of  red- 
dish volcanic  rock  would  bear  a  striking  resemblance  to  that  great 
monument  of  the  Plutonic  reign  on  the  Atlantic  slope,  did  its  fapade 
present  a  straight  front;  but  in  this  swelling  front  is  where  it  exceeds  its 
eastern  rival,  for  one  gets  added  pleasure  from  the  perspective  of  the 
massive  battlement  retreating  right  and  left  in  grand  curvature. 

The  gap  is  wide  enough  not  to  pen  the  water  into  a  very  narrow 
flood,  so  that  only  a  slight  exaggeration  of  the  always  lively  current 
occurs.  This  is  enough,  however,  to  make  these  ripples  a  favorite  spot 
for  the  splendid  trout  in  which  the  whole  upper  part  of  the  river 
abounds,  and  I  suppose  four  or  five  thousand  pounds  of  these  gamy 
fish  are  taken  every  year. 

Right  at  the  foot  of  the  talus  stands  a  group  of  connected  log- 
cabins  forming  a  comfortable  hotel.  As  we  are  bound  for  the  hot 
springs,  we  do  not  remain  here,  but  climbing  into  the  spring  wagon  in 
waiting  ride  southward  for  a  mile  back  into  the  hills  to  a  second  little 
cuchara  of  a  valley  where  are  the  springs  themselves  and  the  hotel,  bath 
houses  and  accessories  belonging  to  the  sanitarium  they  have  created. 
This  hotel  is  delightfully  home-like  in  its  excellence  of  bed  and  board. 

Persons  go  to  Wagon  Wheel  Gap  seeking  recreation  and  for  recovery 
from  ill  health.  If  the  first  is  their  object  (as  it  has  been  in  the  case  of 
the  late  Secretary  of  the  Treasury,— one  of  the  hardest  working  men  for 
ten  months  in  the  year,  in  the  United  States)  they  have  a  pleasant  home 
and  good  company  and  no  end  of  out-door  fun  from  which  to  choose. 


THE  SPORTSMAN'S  PARADISE. 


171 


There  are  little  hills  near  by  which  they  may  begin  on,  and  taller  bluffs 
beyond,  where  they  may  make  perfect  their  practice;  while  far  away 
stand  the  "ultimate  heights"  of  the  Sierra  Madre, — unbroken  masses  of 
snow  when  we  last  beheld  their  spear-pointed  peaks.  There  are  ponies 
they  may  ride,  and  donkeys  for  the  children.  There  are  single  buggies 
and  phaetons  for  the  ladies  and  carryalls  for  the  whole  family.  There 
are  geologizing,  botanizing  and  general  natural  history  to  invite  study 
in  endless  variety. 

Then  there  is  good  sport.  That  noblest  of  the  deer  race, — the  elk — 
still  haunts  the  upland  pastures  and  mountain  glades.  The  black-tailed 
deer  is  to  be  found  lurking  in  the  aspens,  and,  if  you  are  a  good  climber, 
you  may  enjoy  the  very  next  thing  to  Alpine  chamois  shooting  in  the 
arduous  chase  of  the  mountain  sheep.  As  for  fishing,  there  is  no  stint 
to  it  in  the  proper  season.  I  know  no  place  in  Colorado  where  the  fly- 
fisher  will  have  better  sport  and  the  angler,  though  uninstructed  in  the 
wiles  of  Walton,  get  better  results. 

But  it  is  to  invalids  that  the  hot  springs  especially  appeal,  holding 
out  all  these  pleasures  for  their  delectation  as  gradually  they  regain 
their  health  sufficiently  to  practice  and  enjoy  them.  Long  ago  these 
beneficent  waters  were  resorted  to  by  the  Indians  for  healing.  A  trail, 
not  yet  obliterated,  ran  across  the  hills  to  Pagosa  Springs,  which  were 
called  The  Big  Medicine,  while  these  waters  were  known  as  The  Little 
Medicine. 

Though  of  less  volume  than  single  springs  at  Pagosa,  the  springs 
at  Wagon  Wheel  Gap  pour  out  nearly  as  much  water,  since  there 
are  thirty  or  more  of  them  in  the  sheltered  basin  which  makes  a 
natural  sanitarium.  Some  are  icy  cold,  others  tepid,  others  extremely 
hot.  They  are  diverse  also,  in  respect  to  their  mineral  constituents, 
nearly  every  known  variety  of  spa  water  being  represented  more  or  less 
closely.  Only  a  few  of  the  springs  are  utilized,  however,  those  being 
selected  which  seem  to  have  the  most  powerful  curative  properties. 
These  are  principally  three, — and  are  known  as  Nos.  One,  Two  and 
Three.  The  analysis  of  them  published,  though  imperfect,  but  serves  to 
show  the  general  character  of  each,  and  reads  as  follows,  the  proportions 
being  thousandths  of  a  given  bulk  of  the  water: 


No.  1. 

No.  2. 

No.  3. 

69  42 

Trace. 

144  50 

Lithium  Carbonate                         

Trace 

Trace. 

Trace. 

13  08 

31  00 

22  42 

10  91 

5  10 

22.42 

Potassium  Sulphate  

Trace. 

Trace. 

Trace. 

Sodium  Sulphate 

23  73 

10  50 

13.76 

Sodium  Chloride  

29.25 

11.72 

33.34 

Silicic  Acid 

5  73 

1  07 

4.75 

Organic  Matter                         

Trace. 

Trace. 

Trace. 

12  00 

Total                                  .        .           

152  12 

71  39 

218  77 

• 

172  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

The  largest  of  these  is  the  "Number  One,"  and  from  it  is  drawn 
the  water  for  the  plunge-bath  and  to  the  private  bath-rooms,  which  is 
used  in  the  largest  number  of  cases  where  the  disease  affects  the  nerves, 
blood  or  skin.  An  oval  basin  twenty  feet  or  more  in  length  has  been 
excavated  and  tastefully  walled  up.  Here  the  spring  bubbles  up  most 
copiously,  at  a  temperature  of  150  degrees  Fahrenheit,  and  sends  off  an 
incessant  cloud  of  steam  if  the  air  is  at  all  cold.  From  this  tank  the 
water  is  conducted  in  an  open  trough  to  the  bath-houses,  losing  about  30 
degrees  of  its  heat  on  the  way.  This  introduces  it  into  the  baths  at  the 
quite  endurable  temperature  of  120  degrees,  but  fills  the  compartment 
with  a  cloud  of  vapor,  so  that  the  patient  breathes  in  the  chemically- 
laden  moisture  with  every  inhalation.  Besides  this,  while  in  the  bath, 
the  fresh  hot  water  is  drunk  in  big  draughts.  The  invalid  is  thus 
soaked  out  and  in  with  the  healing  fluid;  the  pores  of  his  skin,  all  the 
passages  of  his  head  and  chest,  his  stomach  and  secretory  organs  feel 
the  touch  of  the  water  and  eagerly  absorb  the  medicinal  elements  it 
contains. 

Astonishing  results  have  come  from  a  steady  continuance  of  daily 
baths  and  sweatings.  They  will  tell  you  instances — and  vouch  for  them, 
too,  by  incontestable  testimony — of  men  brought  there  utterly  helpless 
and  full  of  agony  from  inflammatory  rheumatism  or  neuralgia,  who,  in 
a  week,  were  able  to  walk  about  and  help  themselves,  in  a  fortnight 
were  strolling  about  the  valley  erect  and  comfortable,  in  a  month  went 
to  work.  Three  mouths  of  faithful  self-treatment,  it  is  confidently 
promised,  will  set  straight  the  most  chronic  and  painful  cases  of  such 
invalidism.  Many  a  miner  now  digging  in  the  wintry  mountains  passed 
from  almost  certain  death  to  exuberant  strength  through  this  Siloam, 
and  evidences  are  being  multiplied  of  the  startling  efficacy  of  these 
springs  with  every  additional  season. 

Then  there  is  the  dreadful  list  of  cutaneous  diseases  and  disorders 
of  the  blood,  headed  by  the  fiendish  heritage  of  syphilis.  To  such  cases, 
because  their  disease  is  communicable,  are  set  apart  separate  baths. 
Here,  again,  utter  helplessness  and  the  awful  suffering  which  tempts  to 
suicide,  are  relieved  by  a  few  weeks  of  steady  application ;  and  not  merely 
relieved,  as  the  druggist's  medicines  might  in  some  cases  do,  but,  it  is 
claimed,  thoroughly  and  healthfully  cured.  But  this  last  claim,  in  the 
case  of  pronounced  syphilis,  needs  the  con  Irmation  of  longer  trial.  I 
am  willing  to  admit  that  the  two  or  three,  or  four  years  which  have 
elapsed  since  certain  persons  have  gone  away  restored  to  health,  have 
shown  no  recurrence  of  the  symptoms;  but  I  should  like  to  know  that 
the  same  thing  could  be  said  indisputably  half  a  century  hence  before  I 
would  be  willing  to  admit  as  proven  that  this  spring  or  any  other  could 
lay  low  forever  the  head  of  a  malady  which  it  has  hitherto  baffled 
medical  science  to  eradicate  wholly  from  an  infected  system.  But  even 
if  this  final,  full  glory  shall  never  be  attained  by  the  Wagon  Wheel 


174  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

Springs,  it  is  enough  joy  for  the  present  that  they  are  able  to  alleviate 
its  miseries  and  even  temporarily  check  the  havoc  of  body  and  soul.  I 
have  said  so  much  upon  this  point,  because,  it  being  impossible  to  deny 
the  existence  of  the  evil,  it  is  every  man's  duty  to  aid  in  spreading  a 
knowledge  of  any  method  of  relief  or  cure. 

It  is  in  the  two  classes  of  diseases  above  mentioned  that  the  little 
cold  spring  comes  into  play  as  a  useful  beverage.  Dyspeptics,  however, 
bathing  with  less  assiduity  than  their  more  unfortunate  brethren,  affect 
the  hot  soda  water  (Number  Three),  which  bubbles  up  in  a  strong,  hot 
fountain  at  the  head  of  the  gulch,  and  surrounded  by  chalybeate  springs 
of  various  qualities.  This  is  the  water,  too,  which  the  mildly  ailing  like 
to  sip,  perhaps  mingling  a  little  lemon  juice  and  sugar  with  it  to  make 
a  foaming  compound  grateful  both  to  the  taste  and  the  system, — a  union 
rare  in  these  days  of  doctors. 

So,  thanking  God,  we  were  in  no  need  of  the  Little  Medicine  for 
health,  but  could  enjoy  its  delicious  warmth  and  fragrance  as  pleasure 
unalloyed;  but  profoundly  grateful  that  for  humanity  in  worse  luck 
there  was  such  an  Elim  in  the  desert  of  our  degeneracy,  we  bade  adieu 
to  pleasant,  sunny,  warm-hearted  Wagon  Wheel  and  its  jolly  landlord, 
— Mr.  McClelland,  our  compliments,  and  your  good  health,  sir,  in  some- 
thing stronger  than  mineral  water! 

Down  at  the  station  we  went  fishing,  partly  for  fun,  partly  with  the 
urgency  that  set  the  boy  digging  out  the  woodchuck.  Marvelous  stories 
— regular  fish  stories  of  eight-pound  trout  caught  on^a  seven-ounce  rod, — 
had  been  dinned  into  our  ears;  and  as  for  me,  I  half  believed  them  (for 
I  remembered  the  splendid  fellows  we  used  to  snatch  from  the  White 
Water  at  pretty  Irene  canon,  up  above  Antelope  park).  Our  ambition 
was  not  to  repeat  such  performances,  but  to  get  one  or  two  of,  say  a 
pound  and  a  half  each;  while  the  Madame  said  she'd  be  thankful  if  we 
had  a  few  little  ones  not  worth  weighing,  by  dinner  time.  So  Chum 
and  I  went  down  stream  rod  in  hand. 

Having  floundered  round  on  the  slipping  bowlders  for  awhile  with- 
out sitting  down,  we  struck  a  couple  of  good-sized  pools  at  the  head 
of  a  riffle;  Chum  took  the  upper,  I  the  lower.  Making  my  way  out  near 
to  mid-stream,  I  took  up  my  station  behind  a  large  flat  rock  that  stood 
about  a  foot  out  of  water,  and  busied  myself  sending  a  "coachman" 
and  a  "professor"  out  into  my  domain  with  a  little  hope  that  I  might 
induce  something  out  of  the  inviting  pool.  Before  I  had  been  there  five 
minutes,  a  yell  from  Chum  caused  me  to  look  his  way.  His  Bethabard 
was  beautifully  arched,  and  at  the  end  of  twenty  feet  of  line  something 
was  helping  itself  to  silk. 

"I've  got  him;  he's  a  whopper." 

"  That's  the  pound  and  a  half  I  promised  you,"  I  answered,  as  a 
beautiful  fellow  shot  across  stream  not  three  yarda  above  me.  "But 
you'll  lose  him  in  that  current." 


FISHERMAN'S  LUCK.  175 

"I  know  it,  unless  I  work  him  down  your  way." 

"  Come  on  with  him — don't  mind  me."  I  reeled  in,  climbed  on  the 
rock,  and  sat  down  to  see  the  fun,  The  noble  fellow  made  a  gallant 
fight,  but  the  hook  was  in  his  upper  jaw,  and  it  was  only  a  matter  of 
time  when  he  would  turn  upon  his  side.  Working  him  down  stream, 
through  my  pool  and  round  into  the  quieter  water  near  shore,  was  the 
work  of  ten  minutes  at  least,  the  captive,  seeming  to  readily  understand 
that  still  water  was  not  his  best  hold,  kept  making  rushes  for  the  swift 
current;  but  each  time  he  was  brought  back,  and  soon  began  to  weaken 
under  the  spring  of  the  lithe  toy  in  Chum's  hand.  Fifteen  minutes  were 
exhausted  when  the  scale  hook  was  run  under  his  gills  and  he  registered 
one  pound  twelve  ounces. 

Apologizing  for  creating  a  row  in  my  quarters,  Chum  went  back  to 
his  old  place,  while  again  I  tried  my  luck.  About  five  minutes  elapsed 
when  I  heard  another  not  to  be  mistaken  yell. 

"I've  got  another — he's  bigger  than  the  first." 

"Yes,  I  see  you  have — I  think  it's  infernally  mean." 

"  I  know  it  is,  but  I  can't  help  it.  I've  got  to  come  down  there 
again." 

"Well,  come  on,"  and  I  sat  down  again  to  walch  the  issue.  The 
struggle  was  not  so  brave,  though  the  fish,  when  brought  to  scale, 
weighed  half  a  pound  more  than  the  first.  While  we  were  commenting 
on  this  streak  of  luck,  we  noticed  a  change  in  the  water,  its  partially 
clear  hue  began  to  grow  milky,  and  in  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell  it,  a 
bowlder  six  inches  under  the  surface  was  out  of  sight. 

"We  might  as  well  go  to  dinner,  no  trout  will  try  to  rise  in  that 
mud,"  and  I  reeled  up  with  the  reflection  that  the  next  best  thing  to 
catching  a  trout  is  to  see  one  captured  by  one  who  knows  how. 

The  next  day  we  had  another  try.  Chum  crossed  the  river,  and 
then  we  slowly  walked  down  to  a  magnificent  pool  a  mile  below.  Here 
were  a  party  of  half  a  dozen  gentlemen,  to  one  of  whom  I  called  out 
just  as  we  came  within  hearing. 

"  Have  you  got  him?  "  The  inquiry  was  made  on  the  score  of  good 
fellowship;  the  bend  of  his  split  bamboo,  the  tension  of  his  line,  and  the 
whirr  of  his  reel  indicated  the  first  stage. 

"  I  ve  hooked  him,  and  he's  no  sardine,  I  tell  you — whoa,  boy, 
gently  now,"  as  a  sudden  rush  strung  off  full  twenty  feet  of  line. 
"Whoa,  boy,  be  easy  now;  gently,  now;  come  here;  whoa!  confound 
your  picture!  whoa,  boy,  gently,  so,  boy." 

"May  be  you  think  you  are  driving  a  mule,"  came  from  one  of  the 
anglers. 

"Oh,  no!  I'm  trying  to  lead  one — whoa,  boy,  whoa,  boy,  gently, 
now,  none  of  your  capers — whoa!  I  tell  you!"  as  a  renewed  and  vigor- 
ous dash  for  liberty  threatened  destruction  to  the  slender  tackle.  "No 
you  don't,  old  fellow,  so,  boy,  that's  a  good  fellow,"  and  showing  his 


176  THE   CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

back  near  the  surface,  the  captive  exhibited  twenty  inches  (at  a  guess) 
of  trout. 

"By  George,  he's  a  beauty,"  came  from  behind  us. 

I  had  allowed  my  flies  to  float  down  stream  and  had  backed  out  to 
give  room  for  fair  play.  It  was  a  long  fight,  but  his  troutship  finally 
showed  side  up,  and  was  gently  drawn  ashore,  the  water  turned  out  of 
him,  and  he  drew  down  the  scale  three  pounds  to  a  notch. 

These  are  only  "pointers"  for  the  angling  fraternity.  As  for  our 
own  luck  that  day — well,  we  had  good  trout  left  in  the  ice-box  for  a 
week. 

It  was  our  fortune  throughout  this  trip  to  mix  experiences  by  the 
most  sudden  transitions.  It  did  not  seem  strange  to  us,  therefore,  that 
from  the  gold-fields  and  trouting  and  jollity  of  this  beautiful  valley,  we 
should  go  at  a  jump  into  the  coal  districts  east  of  the  range. 


XVII 

EL  MORO  AND  CANON  CITY. 


For  Knights  no  more  In  modern  days  bestride 
Their  Rosinante  and  across  the  hills 
Ride,  by  my  halidome,  to  succor  maids 
Or  couch  a  lance  against  an  amorous  foe; 
Instead,  within  a  Pullman  Palace  Car 
At  ease  reclining  and  at  peace  with  all. 
We  conquer  space  while  romance  groweth  dull 
Under  the  languor  of  the  April  air. 

—WILLIAM  E.  PABOB. 

L  MORO,  sir,— breakfast  nearly  ready,  sir  !  " 

I  had  only  closed  my  eyes  an  instant  before,  I 
was  sure,  yet  then  I  had  been  lying  quietly  in  the  sta- 
tion at  Alamosa,  away  over  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Saugre  de  Cristo.  I  couldn't  remember  anything  of 
the  transition.  Then  it  was  night;  now  it  was  morn- 
ing. Time  and  space  had  been  an  utter  blank  for  ten  hours  and  a  hun- 
dred miles. 

Drawing  aside  my  window  curtain  and  gazing  out  over  gray 
plains,  my  eyes  caught  instantly  the  bluish  outlines  of  a  grander  castle 
and  fortress  than  ever  traveler  on  Rhine  or  Danube  glanced  upon. 
Almost  a  twelve-month  before  the  Madame  and  I  had  spent  a  sunny  day 
at  St.  Augustine,  where  the  old  square,  four-bastioned  fort  stood  grim 
on  the  shore  of  a  foam-flecked  and  laughing  sea.  Here  was  a  copy  of 
that  fortress  a  thousand  times  as  large, — sloping  walls,  outer  works, 
bastions,  towers  and  all;  you  might  almost  see  the  huge  guns,  standing 
rigid  and  ready  on  the  magnificent  parapet.  This  was  El  Moro.  It  was 
miles  and  miles  away,  and  a  hundred  cities  had  room  to  cluster  about  it 
and  take  its  name  without  crowding  one  another.  It  is  the  most  mag- 
nificent rnpdel  of  a  half  ruined,  antique,  but  altogether  glorious  fortress 
in  the  whole  wide  world. 

At  El  Moro  are  some  of  the  great  coal  mines  of  this  carboniferous 
state;  but  to  put  the  matter  Hibernically,  they  are  half  a  dozen  miles 
away  up  in  the  hills.  We  went  up  there  on  an  engine  which  drew 
behind  it  a  box-car  load  of  Mexicans,  men  and  women,  who  all  squatted 
down  on  their  heels  on  the  car  floor  and  were  quite  happy,  chattering 
like  magpies.  It  is  a  very  miserable  class  of  Mexicans,  for  the  most 
part,  that  one  sees  in  this  part  of  the  state.  The  fathers  and  mothers  of 

177 


178 


THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 


most  of  them  were  peons  of  the  wealthy  Spaniards,  who,  under  the  old 
regime,  owned  all  this  region  as  pasturage  for  their  flocks  and  herds. 

The  coal-bed  is  some  hundreds  of  feet  higher  than  the  valley  of  the 
Purgatoire,  where  the  village  is  ;  and  it  can  be  traced  for  thirty  miles 
east  and  west,  cropping  out  frequently  and  used  all  along  by  the  farmers 
who  live  near  it,  as  a  supply  of  fuel.  Throughout  this  extent  it  varies, 
of  course,  in  thickness  and  quality,  though  in  no  great  degree.  Where 
the  El  Moro  mines  are  opened,  it  runs  from  a  vertical  thickness  of  thirty 
feet  to  thirteen,  nearly  all  of  which  is  solid,  merchantable  coal.  There 
are  two  thin  streaks  of  what  the  miners  term  "bone" — something 
neither  coal  nor  slate — and  little  patches  of  refuse,  now  and  then,  but  no 
great  amount. 

I  do  not  know  how  many  hundreds  of  yards  of  underground  tun- 
nels we  walked  through,  but  it  was  an  immense  distance,  yet  the  fore- 
man said  we  had  not  been  half  way  through  it  all.  Everywhere  the  roof 
was  high  overhead  and  the  walls  solid  coal,  so  that  the  men  did  not 
have  to  crawl  on  all  fours  or  lie  prostrate  and  dig,  as  I  have  seen  done 
in  some  eastern  mines,  but  could  stand  full  height.  All  the  product  of 
the  mine  is  taken  by  the  pick,  except  a  small  amount  cut  by  machines, 
which  dig  a  horizontal  trench,  level  with  the  floor,  for  five  feet  or  so 
under  the  breast  of  the  coal  and  across  its  whole  breadth.  This  machine 
works  with  extreme  rapidity,  and  after  it  is  done,  a  couple  of  blasts  will 
topple  down  as  much  coal  as  can  be  carted  out  in  a  day. 

The  output   each  month  is  nearly  twenty  five 
thousand  tons,  about  two  hundred  and  seventy- 
five  miners  working.    The 
piece  -  work     method      is 
adopted    in    paying,    and 
though    a   smaller  rate  is 
paid    per    ton    in    mining 
than  is  usual  in  the  Penn- 
sylvania or  Illinois  mines, 
the  earnings  of  the  miners 
aggregate     much      larger 
than  the  average  in  the 
East.      This    is    due    to 
the    superior  tase  with 
which  this  coal  can  be 
taken    out,    because    of 
its  softness  and  the  roomi- 
ness of  the  working  cham- 
bers,   rather  than   to  any 
thing  better  in  the  miners 
or     greater     diligence    in 
working.     One    difficulty, 


UP  THE    RIO    GRANDE. 


SOME  COLORADO   COAL.  179 

indeed,  arises  from  the  ease  with  which  high  earnings  can  be  made 
here,  namely,  that  desirable  workmen  will  labor  only  during  the  winter, 
or  until  they  have  made  a  "grub-stake,"  as  they  say,  when  they  will 
go  into  the  mountains  prospecting  for  mines  until  their  funds  are 
exhausted,  for,  thus  far,  none  of  them  have  become  suddenly  wealthy. 

At  the  mines,  the  Colorado  Coal  and  Iron  Company,  which  owns 
this  property,  have  built  a  small  village  of  adobe  and  wooden  houses,  in 
which  the  miners  reside.  About  two  hundred  men  were  employed, 
many  of  whom  had  families.  They  were  of  almost  every  nationality, 
including  some  sixty  Mexicans. 

The  El  Moro  coal  is  a  true  bituminous  coal,  producing  a  coke  of 
excellent  quality.  It  is  asserted  by  its  owners  to  be  the  best  coal  for 
making  gas  and  for  blacksmithing  in  the  state  ;  and  it  is  used  exten- 
sively for  steam  and  metallurgical  purposes.  It  is  also  said  to  be  the 
only  coal  yet  discovered  in  Colorado,  lying  east  of  the  mountains,  which 
can  be  profitably  used  for  heating  iron  in  furnaces,  and  for  this  it  is 
equal  to  the  best  grades  of  eastern  coal.  About  two-thirds  of  the  product 
is  made  into  coke. 

The  coke-works  lie  five  miles  from  the  mines  and  near  El  Moro, 
where  there  are  three  steam  pumps,  a  fifty-horse  power  engine,  crushing 
and  washing  machinery  and  two  hundred  and  fifty  coking  ovens.  A 
charge  for  each  of  these  ovens,  they  told  us,  was  about  four  and  a  half 
tons,  and  the  yield  of  coke  from  each,  after  forty-eight  hours  of  burn- 
ing, is  about  two  and  a  quarter  tons,  making  a  present  total  product  of 
two  hundred  and  eighty  tons  of  coal  a  day. 

The  following  shows  the  analysis  of  this  coal  and  coke,  and  also 
that  of  the  well  known  Connelsville  coal  and  coke: 

COAL. 

Water.     Vol.  Matter.   Fix.  Carbon.        Ash.        Sulphur. 

El  Moro 0.26  2966  65.76  4.32  0.85 

Connelsville 1.26  30.11  59.52  8.23  0.78 

COKE. 

Fix.  Carbon.         Ash.          Sulphur. 

El  Moro 87.47  10.68  0.85 

Connelsville 87.26  11.99  0.75 

This  analysis  of  El  Moro  coal  was  made  from  selected  specimens; 
the  average  of  ash  in  the  coke  will  probably  run  up  to  twelve  to  four- 
teen per  cent. 

When  we  were  at  Cucharas  once  before  (I  have  omitted  to  mention 
it  in  its  proper  place),  we  ran  over  to  Walsenburg,  a  neat  little  settlement 
in  Huerfano  Park,  and  a  headquarters  for  a  large  sheep  industry,  and 
visited  the  coal  mines  of  this  company  near  by.  They  own  a  large  tract 
of  land  there,  containing  three  seams  of  coal,  four,  nine,  and  five  feet  in 
thickness.  Only  the  thickest  of  these  has  as  yet  been  developed,  send- 
ing out  about  seventy-five  thousand  tons  annually.  This  coal  analyses 


180  THE  GEE8T  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

as  follows,  "No.  1"  being  the  four-feet  seam,  "No.  2"  the  nine-feet 
seam: 

No.  1.  No.  2. 

Water 3.23         2.97 

Vol.  Matter   40.93         40.08 

Fixed  Carbon    49.54        48.67 

Ash  , 630  8.28 


100.  100. 

Sulphur   62        .65 

It  was  old  traveled  ground,  for  the  major  part  of  the  distance 
between  El  Moro  and  Canon  City,  on  the  Arkansas,  forty  miles  above 
Pueblo;  and  as  we  were  anxious  to  save  all  the  time  we  could  for  the 
new  regions  in  the  west,  where  we  were  sure  the  most  romantic  experi- 
ences awaited,  we  decided  for  another  night-run,  disadvantageous  as 
they  were,  compared  with  day  journeys.  The  next  morning  after  our 
visit  to  El  Moro,  therefore,  found  us  at  anchor  in  Canon  City. 

"  What  is  there  to  see  about  Canon  City  ?  "  Oh,  quantities  of 
things.  Here  is  a  list  of  what  its  Record  keeps  "  set  up  "  as  its  "  advan- 
tages, natural  and  otherwise  :  " 

"  Soda  springs,  iron  springs,  hot  soda  baths,  wide  streets,  excellent 
town  site,  immense  water  power,  exhaustless  coal  fields,  good  water 
works,  best  building  stone,  splendid  lime  rock,  iron  mines,  mica  mines, 
lead  mines,  silver  mines,  oil  wells,  irrigating  ditches,  abundance  of 
shade  trees,  peaches,  plums,  pears,  apples,  walnuts,  grapes,  vegetables, 
grain,  flowers,  bees,  fifteen  thousand  dollar  school  house,  twenty  thou- 
sand dollar  court  house,  Masonic  temple,  city  government,  low  taxes, 
streets  sprinkled,  seven  churches,  theatre  hall,  first-class  dentists,  two 
newspapers,  excellent  physicians,  good  teachers,  brick  and  stone  stores, 
excellent  society,  protection  from  cold  winds,  immense  stocks  of  goods, 
railroad  communication,  good  ranches,  stock  ranges,  excellent  hotels, 
military  college,  and  kindergarten." 

Most  of  these  items  describe  themselves,  but  others  are  worth  men- 
tion. Right  at  the  mouth  of  the  Grand  Canon,  which  suggested  the 
name,  this  site  early  attracted  to  a  permanent  home  many  of  the  earliest 
wanderers  whom  the  famous  Pike's  Peak  immigration  of  1859  brought 
to  the  country.  Half  a  century  before  them,  though,  Major  Zebulon 
Pike  had  made  a  station  for  part  of  his  troops  on  this  spot,  whence  he 
reconnoitered  the  surrounding  mountains. 

Basing  their  calculations  upon  the  fact  that  their  settlement,  which 
from  the  first  was  called  Canon  City,  was  the  last  place  to  which  the 
big  emigration  and  freight  wagons  could  come  from  the  plains,  the 
pioneers  had  large  hopes  of  their  town  as  the  one  entrepot  and  supply- 
point  for  the  mountains.  Merchants  came  here  and  crammed  great 
sheds  with  stocks  of  goods  sold  at  wholesale,  while  forwarders  were 
busy  in  organizing  ox-trains  to  carry  supplies  into  the  mountains. 


CAtfON  CITY  AND  THE   WAR. 


181 


Then  came  the  War  of  the  Rebellion.  All  travel  along  the  southern 
trail  across  the  plains  was  cut  off  by  the  Indians,  and  immigration 
ceased,  particularly  from  the  Southern  states,  whence  had  come  into 
this  part  of  Colorado  a  large  portion  of  the  early  settlers.  More  from 
lack  of  anything  else  to  do  than  because  of  strong  convictions  on  the 


GRAPE    CREEK   CANON. 


subject,  some  two  hundred  and  fifty  young  men  enlisted  from  here  into 
the  Union  service  and  were  sent  to  New  Mexico  on  that  campaign 
against  Sibley,  wherein  Colorado's  regiments  distinguished  themselves. 
While  the  war  raged  Colorado  was  at  a  standstill,  and  the  settlers  had 
hard  shift  to  live,  all  goods  having  to  come  by  the  way  of  Denver,  sub- 
ject to  great  risk. 

Then  the  war  closed,  emigration  westward  revived,  and  Canon 
City,  along  with  the  rest  of  the  region,  took  a  new  lease  of  life.  A  com- 
mittee of  Germans  came  from  Chicago  seeking  a  place  for  a  colony  of 
their  compatriots,  and  were  guided  by  Mr.  Rudd  until  they  hit  upon 


182  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

the  Wet  Mountain  Valley  and  located  Walsenburg.  A  little  later,  hopes 
of  a  railway  cheered  the  hearts  of  the  southern  (Joloradoans.  The 
Kansas  Pacific  Company  sent  engineers  up  the  Arkansas  to  locate  their 
road  across  the  range.  They  surveyed  to  this  point,  estimated  upon  the 
cost  of  grading  through  the  canon,  and  over  the  range  by  two  or  three 
routes.  Then  they  abandoned  the  locality  and  deflected  to  Denver. 
This  was  no  sooner  done  than  reports  of  the  advance  of  the  Atchison, 
Topeka  and  Santa  Fe  came  to  cheer  the  citizens,  but  disappointment 
ensued  until  early  in  the  last  decade  the  Denver  and  Rio  Grande  staked 
out  their  narrow  gauge,  and  had  the  cars  running  regularly  hither  by 
the  Spring  of  1874. 

All  this  time  the  town  was  slowly  progressing  and  its  vicinity  being 
taken  up  for  ranches,  claimed  for  coal  lands,  quarried  for  building- 
stone  and  lime,  and  prospected  for  the  precious  metals.  In  1879  came  a 
"boom."  Leadville  flashed  into  sight  and  the  Rosita  and  Silver  Cliff 
district  sprang  to  the  front  to  rival  it  in  excitement.  To  both  these 
centers  of  rushing  crowd  Canon  City  was  one  point  of  ingress.  The 
town  suddenly  became  thronged  with  men  and  women  who  were  strain- 
ing every  nerve  to  get  into  the  new  regions,  and  with  the  undertow  of  a 
returning  army  of  men  disgusted  with  their  reception  and  ill-luck,  or 
jubilant  over  quick  success,  or  going  east  only  to  return  with  machinery 
or  goods  or  more  money  and  friends. 

To  the  task  of  catching  toll  from  this  careless,  hurrying,  fat- 
pocketed  stream  of  humanity  Canon  City  set  herself.  The  hotels 
charged  big  prices,  lodging  houses  started  up  right  and  left,  restaurants 
and  boarding  tents  thrust  out  their  signs  every  few  steps,  merchants 
urged  your  renewing  your  outfit  at  their  replenished  counters,  and 
every  form  of  wild  amusement  led  to  revelry  and  hideous  headaches. 
Of  all  the  wild  towns  it  has  been  my  fortune  to  see  in  the  West,  I  think 
the  Canon  City  of  those  days  was  the  worst.  Ruffianism  was  the  only 
fashionable  thing,  seemingly,  and  from  the  tangle-headed,  dusty  and 
drunken  bull-whacker  or  the  professional  card-sharper  to  the  staid  old 
citizen,  everybody  had  caught  the  spirit  of  a  grand  spree  and  the  devil 
reigned. 

But  the  railway  was  at  last  built  through  the  canon,  the  loud- 
swearing,  quick-shooting  teamsters  followed  their  principals  to  the  end 
of  the  track  at  Cleora,  Salida,  Buena  Vista,  and  so  on  to  Leadville 
itself;  the  gamblers  and  dance-houses  and  harlots  followed;  the  host  of 
railway  laborers  no  longer  made  the  village  streets  scenes  of  debauchery, 
and  the  town  counted  its  gains,  reckoned  the  loss  its  manners  and 
morals  had  suffered,  and  returned  to  its  normal  quiet. 

But  its  waking  up  had  set  its  blood  flowing  faster  and  it  has  been  a 
live  town  ever  since,  growing  steadily,  making  public  improvements, 
building  houses  and  finding  occupants  faster  than  they  could  be  put  up, 
and  all  without  any  fictitious  excitement. 


PEACHES  AND  HONEY.  183 

It  is  for  its  coal  mines — and  these  are  half  a  dozen  miles  eastward — 
that  Canon  City  has  the  highest  repute,  however,  and  to  these  it  owes 
much  of  its  prosperity.  They  are  the  property  of  the  ubiquitous  Coal 
and  Iron  Company,  who  supply  from  here  a  large  part  of  the  fuel — and 
of  the  hardest  and  cleanest  quality — used  in  the  household  all  over  the 
state.  The  railway  consumes  a  great  quantity  too,  for  it  has  long  been 
recognized  as  the  best  steam-maker.  Two  veins  are  now  worked,  one 
five  feet  and  the  other  four  feet  in  thickness.  The  mines  are  worked  by 
slopes  furnished  with  steam  hoisters.  The  Coal  Creek  mine  has  been  in 
operation  for  nine  years.  The  company  has  recently  opened  two  new 
slopes  at  Oak  Creek,  and  are  prepared  to  furnish  1,500  tons  of  coal  per 
day  from  them.  The  total  annual  output  of  these  mines  is  about 
125,000  tons.  The  following  are  the  analyses  of  these  coals: 

Water 4.50        6.15 

Volatile  Matter 34.20         36.03 

Fixed  Carbon 56.80         52.82 

Ash 4.50         500 

Total 100         100 

Sulphur .65 

Everybody  will  understand  from  this  statement  that  this  coal  is 
worthless  for  coking,  but  most  desirable  as  fuel.  Our  cook  will  swear 
to  this,  but  declines  to  tell  how  much  he  stole  at  various  times  for  culi- 
nary use. 

Withal,  Canon  City  is  a  pretty  town ;  one  of  the  pleasantest  places 
to  live  in  in  Colorado.  Rows  of  large  trees  shade  all  the  side- walks  (and 
they  are  side-walks  of  planking,  not  mere  gravel  paths),  and  the  ample 
spaces  left  about  each  house  are  filled  with  fruit  trees,  flowers  and 
garden  vegetables.  To  go  into  such  a  garden  as  one  I  visited  in  town  is 
a  surprise.  A  picturesquely  built  house,  its  adobe  walls  hidden  by 
much  climbing  vinery,  has  its  porch  turned  into  a  thickly-leaved  bower 
by  masses  upon  masses  of  clematis,  whose  white,  thistly  puffs  of  seed- 
down,  each  as  large  as  a  snow  ball,  are  strung  upon  the  green  stem  like 
monstrous  beads.  The  garden,  of  which  this  cottage  is  the  center, 
abounds  in  apple  trees,  pears,  quince,  plum,  and  peach  trees,  through 
whose  spring  blossoms  thousands  of  bees  go  to  and  fro  bearing  burdens 
of  honey  to  the  neat  store-houses  under  the  shade.  The  lower  part  of 
the  garden  falls  away,  terrace  fashion,  to  the  river,  and  here  are  arbors 
of  grapes,  thickets  of  currant  and  gooseberry  bushes,  beds  of  asparagus, 
celery,  and  all  sorts  of  good  plants  to  make  the  pot-boiler  happy. 
Down  by  the  river  stands  a  windmill,  by  which  water  is  pumped  to  a 
reservoir,  whence  the  whole  garden  and  orchard  can  be  irrigated  and 
sprinkled. 

This  is  only  one  of  hundreds  of  gardens  small  and  great  where  fruit 
and  vegetables  are  raised  for  home  use  and  for  sale.  Marvelous  stories 
are  told  of  the  weight  of  the  cabbages,  of  the  girth  of  the  beets,  of  the 
solidity  of  the  turnips  and  strength  of  the  onions  that  go  hence.  And  as 


184  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

for  apples,  scores  and  scores  of  acres  are  being  newly  set  out  in  apple 
trees,  and  almost  square  miles  of  "truck"  fields  will  next  year  add  their 
quota  to  the  unsatisfied  market.  I  was  astonished  when  I  saw  how 
extensive  and  successful  was  the  culture  of  fruit  and  garden  sauce  in 
and  about  Canon  City. 

This  comes  from  good  soil  and  easy  climate.  They  say  some  win- 
ters here  are  so  mild  that  one  hardly  needs  an  overcoat  at  all ;  it  must 
be  remembered  that  though  the  elevation  is  high  the  latitude  is  low.  I 
saw  a  field  where  clover  had  been  cut  three  times  a  year  for  twelve 
years,  yet  showed  no  signs  of  running  out;  and  as  for  alfalfa,  they  cut 
the  crop  quarterly. 

The  citizens  think  that  their  town  is  likely  to  prove  a  mamaf  acturing 
center.  I  see  no  reason  why  it  should  not.  The  river  falls  there  at  a 
rate  which  furnishes  a  fine  water  power,  already  utilized  to  propel  the 
public  water-works.  With  the  best  of  coal  close  by,  and  iron  in  abun- 
dance only  a  little  way  off,  I  should  think  the  future  would  see  machine 
shops  and  foundries  placed  at  this  point;  while  factories  for  woolen 
cloth,  for  making  wooden-ware  from  pine  and  for  various  other  indus- 
tries adapted  to  the  resources  and  market  of  the  neighborhood,  shoe 
factories  and  leather-work  by  machinery  generally  ought  to  be  flourish- 
ing here  some  day,  since  hides  ought  to  be  tanned  here  instead  of  being 
sent  wholly  to  the  East. 

In  the  State  prison,  which  is  situated  here,  there  is  already  a  shoe- 
factory,  but  most  of  the  prisoners  are  engaged  in  quarrying  and  cutting 
stone.  The  quarries  are  in  the  side  hill,  and  the  stone  is  a  yellowish 
sand-rock,  very  good  for  building.  The  fine-appearing  prison-buildings 
and  the  lofty  wall  which  encloses  them  are  built  of  this  stone,  as  can 
readily  be  seen  from  the  car-windows.  Much  stone,  in  the  rough  and 
shaped,  is  shipped  from  these  quarries  to  Denver  and  elsewhere,  and 
the  railway  makes  extensive  use  of  it. 

Just  outside  of  the  foot  hills,  where  the  sandstone  is  procured,  are 
the  "hog-backs" — elongated  ridges  of  white  lime-rock.  These,  also, 
are  being  leveled  to  supply  the  lime-kilns  and  also  to  be  sent  to  Lead- 
ville,  Argo  and  elsewhere  for  the  use  of  the  smelting  furnaces  as  flux. 
Something  like  two  hundred  car-loads  a  week,  I  am  told,  go  to  Lead- 
ville  alone ;  but  the  competition  of  lime  ledges  near  Robinson  and  else- 
where north  of  Leadville  is  likely  to  diminish  this  shipment  in  future  to 
that  point.  Possibly,  though,  if  the  newly  discovered  silver  prospects 
over  the  hills  near  Blackburn  turn  out  to  be  of  any  value,  a  home 
demand  may  make  up  for  Leaclville's  discrepancies.  Finally,  petroleum 
seems  to  have  been  found  here  in  quantities  which  will  ultimately  prove 
highly  remunerative.  Wells  are  being  bored,  and  unexpectedly -good 
results  are  obtained,  so  that  high  hopes  are  entertained  that  to  her  list  of 
productions  Colorado  shall  add  in  profitable  quantities  this  wonderful 
substance — mineral  oil — and  the  spirit  of  speculation  and  industry  be 
given  a  new  channel  for  its  activity. 


XVIII 
IN  THE  WET  MOUNTAIN  VALLEY. 


For  some  were  hung  with  arras  green  and  blue, 
Showing  a  gaudy  summer  morn. 

And  one  a  full-fed  river  winding  slow 

By  herds  upon  an  endless  plain. 

— TENNYSON. 

CITY  was  by  no  means  a  bad  place  to  stay, 
and  we  would  have  prolonged  our  visit  to  the  benefit 
of  our  table,  had  not  the  railway  yard  been  so  busy  a 
one  that  there  was  no  rest  for  our  cars,  which  were 
pulled  about,  here  and  there,  by  the  necessities  of  train- 
forming,  in  a  way  we  were  far  from  enjo}ring,  so  we 
decided  to  go  on.  At  the- last  minute,  nevertheless,  this  happy-go-lucky 
crowd  concluded  that  they  were  extremely  anxious  first  to  take  a  run 
over  into  the  Wet  Mountain  valley.  One  gentleman,  of  uncertain  influ- 
ence, raised  his  voice  against  it,  but  was  silenced  so  quickly  it  made  his 
head  swim.  He  had  endeavored  to  point  out  that  it  would  be  more 
instructive  to  go  down  to  the  great  coal  mines,  a  few  miles  below ;  and 
far  more  fun  to  ascend  Signal  mountain  and  *'  see  what  we  should  see." 
He  tried  skillfully  to  arouse  some  enthusiasm  by  telling  how,  though  it 
seemed  within  rifle-shot,  it  was  really  eighteen  miles  away;  how  it  can 
be  seen  from  the  plains  not  only,  but  also  from  South  Park  and  the 
peaks  that  surround ;  how,  in  consequence,  the  Utes  chose  it  as  one  of 
their  telegraph  stations,  and  the  early  pioneers  bound  for  Pike's  Peak, 
saw  from  their  camps  the  wavering  smoke  by  day,  or  the  signal  fires  at 
night,  upon  its  summit,  through  which  the  Indians  informed  their  com- 
panions of  the  invaders'  movements.  Thus  it  came  to  be  known  as  Sig- 
nal mountain,  but  in  this  gentleman's  humble  opinion  the  old  Spanish 
name  of  "  Pisgalo  Peak"  was  better.  All  this  was  listened  to  with  a 
sort  of  consolatory  attention;  nevertheless  the  speaker  was  compelled, 
not  only  to  resign  his  plan,  but  to  give  orders  otherwise. 

Grown  strong  in  the  lap  of  the  Wet  Mountain  valley,  Grape  creek 
assaults  the  red  walls  of  rock  that  bar  its  progress  to  the  Arkansas  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Grand  Canon.  The  profusion  of  wild  vines  its  waters 
nourish,  makes  its  name  a  natural  one,  and  they  adorn  its  course  as  few 
streams  in  the  West  are  garnished.  These  are  particularly  abundant 
along  the  rocky  lower  part  of  the  stream,  growing  luxuriantly  upon  the 

8*  185 


186  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

arbors  the  great  cottouwoods  afford,  and  under  the  shelter  of  the  warm, 
red  walls,  relieving  the  ruggedness  of  their  abrupt  slopes,  "  as  if  nature 
found  she  had  done  her  work  too  roughly,  and  then  veiled  it  with  flowers 
and  clinging  vines." 

"The  entrance  to  Grape  Creek  canon,"  writes  an  acquaintance, who 


GRAND  CANCN  OF  THE  ARKANSAS. 

was  there  a  little  iu  advance  of  us,  "for  over  a  mile,  follows  the  wind- 
ings of  the  clear  flowing  creek,  with  gently  sloping  hills  on  either  side 
covered  with  low  spruce  and  piiion,  and  with  grass  plats  and  brilliant 
flowers  in  season  far  up  their  slopes,  and  the  Spanish  lance  and  bush 
cactus  present  their  bristling  points  wherever  a  little  soil  affords  them 
sustenance.  .  .  About  seven  miles  from  the  mouth  of  the  creek  a 
small  branch  canon  comes  in  from  the  right.  It  was  once  a  deep  cleft* 


IN  GRAPE  CREEK  CAftON.  187 

with  perpendicular  sides,  created  in  some  convulsion  of  nature,  but  it 
has  been  gradually  filled  up  with  debris  and  broken  rock  until  a  sloping 
and  not  difficult  path  is  made,  by  the  sides  of  which  a  luxuriant  vege- 
tation has  taken  root,  and  the  wild  rose  and  clematis  blooms  with  the 
humble  blue-bell  among  the  mossy  bowlders.  Climbing  this  path  for  a 
few  hundred  feet  a  side  cleft  is  seen  at  the  right,  which  seems  to  termi- 
•late  in  a  solid  wall.  Following  it  to  the  breast,  however,  you  find  at  the 
left  a  passage  made  by  a  water  channel,  with  steps  which  ladies  can 
easily  pass  with  a  little  help,  and  we  enter  a  narrow  passage  between 
high  rocky  walls.  Turning  again  to  the  right,  we  follow  this  perhaps 
two  hundred  feet,  and  looking  to  the  left  we  find  before  and  above  us 
the  lofty  arched  dome  of  the  "Temple."  About  twenty-five  feet  above 
where  we  are  standing  is  a  platform,  perhaps  fifty  feet  in  width  and  six 
or  eight  feet  in  depth,  over  which  projects  far  above  the  arching  roof. 
Though  the  auditorium  in  front  is  rather  narrow  for  a  large  audience, 
the  platform  is  grand,  and  may  be  reached  without  great  difficulty. 
Music  sounds  finely  as  it  rolls  down  from  the  overhanging  sounding, 
board  of  stone.  From  the  platform  deep  cavernous  recesses  are  seen 
at  the  sides,  which  time  has  wrought,  but  which  are  invisible  from 
below.  Moreover,  the  action  of  water  slowly  percolating  through  the 
back  walls,  carrying  lime  and  spar  in  solution,  has  coated  them  with 
crystals,  which  gleam  in  sparkling  beauty  when  the  sunlight  touches 
them  early  in  the  day.  Farther  up  the  canon  the  rocks  do  not  rise  to  so 
great  heights,  and  the  vista  opens  out  into  pleasant  winding  valleys  well 
covered  with  grass,  bui  there  are  several  very  interesting  points  where 
the  action  of  internal  convulsions  upon  the  granite  and  syenite  in  elder 
ages,  when  they  came  hot  from  the  crucible  of  nature,  have  rolled  and 
twisted  and  kneaded  the  great  rock-masses  into  most  curious  and 
notable  shapes  " 

These  beauties  passed  all  too  rapidly,  the  green  expanse  of  the  Wet 
Mountain  valley  opened  before  us.  It  seemed  to  merit  its  name,  for  the 
Sangre  de  Cristo,  walling  in  its  western  side,  was  the  abode  of  contend- 
ing hosts  of  rain  and  snow,  whose  pale,  dense  phalanxes  lent  new  sub- 
limity to  the  noble  battle-ground  they  had  chosen;  but  the  real  "Wet 
Mountains," — the  old  "Sierra  Mojada"  of  the  Spaniards,  the  "Green 
Horn"  range  of  the  dwellers  on  its  eastern  outlook — are  the  ragged 
range  eastward. 

The  Wet  Mountain  valley  has  long  been  settled  by  ranchmen,  and 
extensive  herds  pasture  on  its  wide-sweeping  hillsides.  Grape  creek, 
flowing  from  Promontory  bluff  and  the  hills  to  the  southward,  which 
separate  this  valley  from  Huerfano  park  and  the  drainage  of  the  Cucha- 
ras,  waters  the  center  of  the  valley,  and  its  banks  are  lined  with  mead- 
ows and  farms.  Each  winter  sees  hay  alone  sent  from  these  meadows 
to  the  value  of  not  less  than  $150,000.  Oats  and  barley,  especially,  do 
well,  and  most  of  the  roots  are  grown  successfully;  very  fine  potatoes 


1S8  THE  CREST  OP  THE  CONTINENT. 

were  transferred  from  those  fields  to  our  boiler,  so  that  we  have  the  best 
evidence  of  their  excellence.  The  improved  appearance  of  the  numer- 
ous ranches,  which  in  one  or  two  places  are  agglomerated  into  hamlets, 
shows  their  prosperity,  and  the  whole  picture  of  the  valley  is  one  of  the 
most  pleasing  in  Colorado, — not  only  in  point  of  natural  beauty,  but  for 
its  commercial  and  human  interest,  for  Rosita  is  one  of  the  oldest  towns 
in  Colorado. 

"A  legend  runs,"  vide  II.  H.,  "that  there  was  once  another  '  Little 
Rose,'  a  beautiful  woman  of  Mexico,  who  had  a  Frenchman  for  a  lover. 
When  she  died  her  lover  lost  his  wits,  and  journeyed  aimlessly  away  to 
the  north ;  he  rambled  on  and  on  till  he  came  to  this  beautiful  little  nook, 
nestled  among  mountains,  and  overlooking  a  green  valley  a  thousand 
feet  below  it.  Here  he  exclaimed,  '  Beautiful  as  Rosita ! '  and  settled 
himself  to  live  and  die  on  the  spot.  A  simpler  and  better  authenticated 
explanation  of  the  name  is,  that,  when  the  miners  first  came,  six  years 
ago,  into  the  gulches  where  the  town  of  Rosita  now  lies,  they  found  sev- 
eral fine  springs  of  water,  each  spring  in  a  thicket  of  wild  roses.  As  they 
went  to  and  fro  from  their  huts  to  the  springs,  they  found  in  the  dainty 
blossoms  a  certain  air  of  greeting,  as  of  old  inhabitants  welcoming  new- 
comers. It  seemed  no  more  than  courteous  that  the  town  should  be 
called  after  the  name  of  the  oldest  and  most  aristocratic  settler, — a  kind 
of  recognition  which  does  not  always  result  in  so  pleasing  a  name  as 
Rosita  (Tompkinsville,  for  instance,  or  Jenkins'  Gulch).  Little  Rose, 
then,  it  became,  and  Little  Rose  it  will  remain." 

But  the  metropolis  of  the  valley,  and  the  terminus  of  the  railway  at 
present  is  the  newer  town  of  Silver  Cliff,  a  town  which  saw  one  of  the 
"biggest  booms"  on  record.  The  story  goes  that  the  first  known  dis- 
covery of  silver  here  was  in  July,  1877,  by  the  Edwards  brothers,  who 
had  previously  been  running  saw-mills  on  Texas  and  Grape  creeks. 
Returning  one  warm  evening  from  one  of  the  mills  to  Rosita,  Mr.  R.  J. 
Edwards  stopped  in  the  shade  of  a  low  bluff,  jet-stained  reddish  rock, 
which  stood  out  from  the  slope  of  a  hill  on  the  western  side  of  the  valley 
seven  miles  north  of  his  destination.  The  peculiar  appearance  of  the 
rock  moving  his  curiosity,  he  procured  an  assay  of  it,  when,  to  his 
astonishment,  he  was  told  that  it  ran  twenty-four  ounces  in  silver  to  the 
ton.  In  a  few  days  the  entire  population  of  Rosita  had  migrated  to  the 
rock  which  they  agreed  to  call  the  Silver  Cliff,  and  were  digging  holes 
and  testing  for  gold,  since  it  was  thought  there  was  more  of  that  than 
of  the  less  valuable  mineral  to  be  obtained.  But  their  efforts  came  to 
nothing;  and  as  quick  to  be  discouraged  as  they  were  to  have  their 
hopes  aroused,  the  mercurial  crowd  vanished,  and  the  black  striped 
rocks  enjoyed  their  previous  solitude  through  all  the  next  autumn  and 
winter. 

Then  (this  was  in  the  spring  of  1878)  some  sensible  prospectors  tried 
for  silver  and  located  the  "Racine  Boy"  and  various  other  properties 


HARDUCRABBLE  MINING  DISTRICT.  189 

right  on  the  brow  of  the  cliff,  which  have  since  proved  of  great  value. 
This  was  the  signal  for  a  second  rush,  but  the  new  comers,  who  dug 
holes  everywhere  and  anywhere,  like  an  immense  colony  of  prairie 
badgers,  each  thought  himself  sure  of  millions,  and  held  his  bit  of 
ground  at  so  high  a  price  that  nobody  would  buy  at  all.  This  resulted 
in  a  panic,  the  effect  of  which  was  really  for  the  prosperity  of  the 
critical  camp,  since  capital  now  took  hold  and  deep  developments  pro- 
ceeded on  some  properties  that  had  proved  their  worth. 

It  did  not  take  long  to  evince  the  fact  that  ninety  out  of  every  hun- 
dred of  the  holes  scattered  so  indiscriminately  over  the  velvety  knolls 
of  Round  mountain  and  the  smooth,  hard  plain  near  by,  were  of  no 
value;  and  also,  on  the  other  hand,  to  show  enough  paying  mines  to 
make  it  appear  that  the  ore  (at  any  rate  that  near  the  surface)  all  lay 
in  a  particular  "belt,"  apparently  culminating  in  the  exposed  ledges 
that  had  first  attracted  the  miner's  eyes. 

The  Hardscrabble  mining  district,  in  which  both  Silver  Cliff  and 
Rosita  are  situated,  takes  its  name  from  a  small  creek  that  rises  in  the 
foothills  on  the  west  side  of  the  Wet  Mountain  range,  or  Sierra  Mojada, 
and,  forcing  its  way  through  a  wild  and  difficult  canon,  flows  into  the 
Arkansas  river  seven  or  eight  miles  east  of  Canon  City.  The  mountains 
themselves  are  of  red  granite,  which  has  been  thrown  up  in  the  wildest 
confusion,  and  which  the  winds  and  rains  in  many  places  have  carved 
into  all  sorts  of  fantastic  shapes.  The  range  is  extremely  rugged, 
almost  destitute  of  large  timber,  and  is  impassable  for  wagons,  except 
where  roads  have  been  built  at  great  expense  through  the  canons  and 
over  the  divide. 

The  western  foothills  of  the  Sierra  Mojada  generally  present,  at  a 
distance,  a  smooth,  rounded  appearance,  with  now  and  then  a  ledge  of 
rocks  sticking  out  of  the  summit  or  side,  and  while  on  some  of  them 
timber  of  considerable  size  is  growing,  in  most  instances  the  vegetation 
consists  solely  of  a  few  stunted  evergreen  bushes  and  a  very  thin  growth 
of  gramma  grass.  The  soil  on  these  hills  is  generally  very  thin,  and,  on 
approaching  them,  the  surface  is  found  to  be  covered  with  loose  pieces 
of  broken  rock,  which  the  frosts  have  detached  and  the  rains  washed 
out  from  beneath  a  slight  covering  of  earth.  It  is  in  these  foothills  that 
all  the  best  mines  of  the  Hardscrabble  district  have  been  found. 

The  geological  formation  of  this  rich  mineral  belt  is  peculiar  and 
very  interesting.  Resting  upon  and  against  the  granite  of  the  Wet 
Mountain  range  and  its  higher  foothills,  and  extending  down  into  the 
valley  beyond  the  southern  line  of  the  belt,  lies  an  enormous  deposit  of 
porphyry,  or  trachyte,  a  volcanic  rock  poured  out  and  consolidated 
during  the  tertiary  period.  Its  width  is  at  least  five  miles,  and  its  length 
is  probably  fifteen  or  twenty.  Extending  into  the  trachyte  formation 
from  the  southwest,  and  following  its  general  direction,  is  a  tongue- 
shaped  mass  of  granite  about  tlrree-fourths  of  a  mile  wide  and  at  least 


190  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT 

seven  or  eight  miles  long.  When  the  trachyte  was  poured  out  this 
granite  apparently  formed  a  ridge  which  rose  above  the  level  of  the 
fluid  mass  of  the  surrounding  volcanic  rock,  and  therefore  was  not 
covered  by  it.  That  it  does  not  now  stand  higher  than  the  surrounding 
country  does  not  disprove  this  theory,  because  there  are  everywhere 
to  be  found  evidences  of  terrible  convulsions  since  the  trachyte  was 
deposited  which  have  completely  changed  the  face  of  this  entire  region. 
The  mines  here  are  found  both  in  the  granite  and  also  in  the  trachyte. 
Winding  through  the  porphyry,  in  a  serpentine  course,  there  is  also  a 
stream  of  obsidian,  as  it  is  called  here,  or  volcanic  glass,  mixed  with 
trachyte  and  quartz  bowlders.  This  stream,  where  it  has  been  exam- 
ined, varies  from  a  few  feet  to  many  rods  in  width,  and  in  crevices  of 
the  bowlders  which  form  the  mass  of  it  were  found,  on  the  Hecla  claim, 
some  very  rich  specimens  of  horn  silver. 

At  Silver  Cliff,  and  north  of  there  especially,  the  trachyte  rock  has 
been  shaken  up  and  fractured  in  all  directions,  and  in  many  places  the 
crevices  have  been  filled  with  iron  and  manganese,  which  has  become 
oxidized,  and  with  chloride  of  silver.  This  is  the  free  milling  ore  which 
is  found  in  all  the  mines  that  lie  directly  north  of  this  town  and  adjoin- 
ing it.  The  trachyte  is  of  itself  yellowish  white  ;  when  it  is  stained  with 
the  black  oxide  of  manganese  and  the  red  oxide  of  iron  that  variegates 
the  ores,  it  is  sure  to  carry  silver,  though  this  (in  the  form  of  a  chloride) 
can  rarely  be  seen.  Sometimes,  however,  the  silver  can  be  seen  upon 
the  surface  of  a  fracture  in  the  form  of  a  green  scale,  or  appears  in  little 
globules  of  horn  silver.  While  the  rich  ore  is  discovered  in  large  masses, 
surrounded  by  leaner  or  less  valuable  rock,  there  is  nowhere  in  the  chlor- 
ide belt  anything  that  looks  like  a  vein.  The  rock  just  covers  the  entire 
face  of  the  country  over  an  area  two  miles  long  and  half  a  mile  wide, 
and  the  whole  muss  of  it  contains  at  least  a  small  quantity  of  silver. 

The  theory  of  the  geologists,  accepted  by  the  miners,  is,  that  the 
trachyte,  after  it  became  solidified,  was  shaken  and  broken  up  by  some 
great  convulsion,  and  that  simultaneously,  or  afterward,  silver,  iron, 
manganese,  and  the  other  metals  of  which  traces  are  found  in  the  rock, 
were  disseminated  through  crevices,  either  in  water  solutions  or  volatil- 
ized —  in  the  form  of  gases.  These  solutions  or  gases  are  supposed  to 
have  come  up  through  cracks  in  the  earth's  crust.  Such  a  deposit  is 
called  in  the  old  world  "  stockwork,"  and  Professor  J.  S.  Newberry,  in 
writing  recently  of  "The  Origin  and  Classification  of  Ore  Deposits," 
mentions  this  as  one  of  the  two  most  important  examples  of  this  kind  of 
deposit  that  have  come  under  his  observation.  The  other  is  the  gold 
deposit  in  Bingham  canon,  Utah.  None  of  the  oldest  miners  ever  saw 
before  any  ore  that  looked  like  this  at  Silver  Cliff,  and  this  explains  their 
failure  to  discover  its  value  until  recently.  The  same  is  true  of  the 
quartzite  gold  ore  in  Bingham  canon.  The  miners  worked  for  years 
there  getting  out  silver-lead  ores,  but  threw  aside  the  gold  ore  as  waste, 
not  dreaming  of  its  value. 


VERT   VARIOUS    VEINS. 


191 


But  the  mineral  belt  which  I  have  described  contains  other  classes 
of  mines.  At  Rosita,  in  the  "  Pocahontas-Humboldt  "  lode,  the  trachyte, 
instead  of  being  shattered  and  impregnated,  has  been  rent  asunder  and 
a  true  fissure  formed  in  it,  filled  with  gray  copper,  galena,  zinc  blende, 
iron  and  copper  pyrites  and  heavy  spar — all  carrying  sulphide  of  silver. 
These  form  a  narrow  pay  streak  from  one  to  eighteen  inches  wide,  and 


THE   ROYAL   GORGE 


192  THE  CRE8T  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

the  remainder  is  filled  with  a  gaugue  rock,  generally  of  a  trachytic  forma- 
tion. This  vein  extends  for  a  long  distance  through  the  hills,  and  is 
inclosed  by  walls  that  are  as  clearly  defined  as  those  of  a  room.  Other 
smaller  veins  of  the  same  character  have  been  found  in  the  country 
north  of  Rosita,  and  on  some  of  them  valuable  mines  have  been  located 
and  developed. 

Still  another  class  of  mines  in  the  same  mineral  belt  remains-  to  be 
mentioned.  Those  are  what  Professor  Newberry  has  called  the  "me- 
chanically filled"  veins,  and  they  include  the  "  Bassick"  and  the  "Bull- 
Domingo."  The  former  is  supposed  to  be  a  true  fissure  vein  in  the 
trachyte  rock,  the  cavity  of  which,  after  the  rocks  were  rent  asunder, 
was  filled  with  well  rounded  pebbles  and  bowlders,  generally  similar  in 
constitution  to  the  country  rock.  The  interstices  in  this  mass  have  been 
filled  with  tellurides  of  gold  and  silver,  free  gold,  zinc  blende,  galena, 
and  the  pyrites  of  iron  and  copper  carrying  silver.  These  materials 
surround  the  stones  in  thin  shells,  the  pebbles  and  bowlders  forming 
nuclei  about  which  the  metallic  substances  crystallized.  In  the  "Bull- 
Domingo,"  situated  in  the  granite  tongue,  the  stones  are  generally  gran- 
ite or  syenite,  and  the  cementing  substance  is  argentiferous  galena,  which 
not  only  surrounds  the  stones,  but  in  many  cases  entirely  fills  up  the 
irregular  spaces  between  them.  In  both  of  these  cases  it  is  supposed 
that  the  metallic  matter  came  up  from  below  in  the  form  of  a  hot 
solution. 

Silver  Cliff  has  been  a  trifle  disappointed,  however.  Not  only  were 
her  streets  laid  out  broad  and  straight,  upon  a  splendid  town  site,  over 
a  considerably  larger  area  than  has  yet  been  occupied,  but  two  other 
towns,  Westcliffe,  where  the  railway  station  is,  and  Clifton,  between 
the  two  towns,  invite  persons  to  buy  town  lots  and  build  houses  in 
rivalry.  At  present,  however,  Clifton's  population  consists  chiefly  of  its 
town-agent,  and  there  is  one  of  the  best  opportunities  to  take  your  choice 
of  building  sites  there  that  I  know  of  in  the  Centennial  state.  West- 
cliffe has  a  big  smelter,  a  hay-press,  the  water-works,  and  various  other 
reasons  for  being  a  future  village  of  importance. 

Yet  Silver  Cliff  is  a  fine  town,  and  its  streets  are  busy  with  miners 
and  merchants  and  professional  men,  who  know  where  their  money  is 
coming  from  and  going  to.  The  immense  interests  of  the  Silver  Cliff 
Mining  company,  with  its  open,  quarry-like  mine,  and  its  great  mill, 
which  has  the  reputation  of  being  the  finest  in  Colorado,  employ  a  large 
number  of  men.  Another  mill,  further  down  the  creek,  is  running  on 
the  product  of  its  mines,  and  a  great  deal  of  development-work  along 
the  whole  belt  is  in  progress,  while  prospects  of  rich  strikes  elsewhere 
keep  things  in  a  bright,  hopeful  condition. 

As  for  Rosita,  it  was  a  thriving  mining  camp,  half  a  dozen  years 
before  Silver  Cliff  and  its  chlorides  were  heard  of.  True  fissure  veins 
were  disclosed,  and  a  permanent  town  resulted,  which  is  yet  mining  qui- 
etly but  successfully,  and  making  its  people  wealthy. 


XIX 

THE  ROYAL  GORcfE. 


High  overarched,  and  echoing  walls  between. 

— MILTON. 

HE  Grand  Canon  of  the  Arkansas,  and  its  culminating 
chasm,  the  Royal  Gorge,  lie  between  Salida  and  Canon 
City,  and  form  a  sufficient  theme  for  a  chapter  by 
themselves.  It  was  on  our  return  from  Silver  Cliff  that 
we  went  there. 

Situated  only  half  a  dozen  miles  west  of  Canon 
City,  the  traveler  going  either  to  Leadville  or  Gunnison,  begins  to  watch 
for  the  canon  as  soon  as  he  has  passed  the  city  limits,  the  penitentiary 
and  the  mineral  springs.  If  he  looks  ahead  he  sees  the  vertically  tilted, 
whitish  strata  of  sandstone  and  limestone,  which  the  upthrust  of  the 
interior  mountains  has  set  on  edge,  broken  at  a  narrow  portal  through 
which  the  graceful  river  finds  the  first  freedom  of  the  plains, — becomes 
of  age,  so  to  speak,  and  commences,  however  awkwardly,  that  manly 
progress  that  by  and  by  will  enable  it  to  take  its  important  place  in  the 
commerce  of  the  world, — 

" The  river, 

Which  through  continents  pushes  its  pathway  forever, 
To  fling  its  fond  heart  in  the  sea." 

Running  the  gauntlet  of  these  scraggy  warders  of  the  castle  of  the 
mountain- gods  within,  the  train  boldly  assaults  the  gates  of  the  castle 
itself.  From  the  smoothness  of  the  outer  world,  where  the  eye  can 
range  in  wide  vision,  taking  in  the  profiles  of  countless  noble  chains  and 
lowlier  but  serviceable  ridges;  where  the  sun  shines  broadly,  and  its 
light  and  heat  are  reflected  in  shimmering  volumes  from  expanses  of 
whitened  soil,  the  etiger  traveler  now  finds  himself  locked  between  pre- 
cipitous hillsides,  strewn  with  jagged  fragments,  as  though  the  Titans 
had  tossed  in  here  the  chips  from  their  workshop  of  the  world.  He 
strives  for  language  large  enough  to  picture  the  heights  that  with  cease- 
lessly growing  altitude  hasten  to  meet  him.  He  searches  his  fancy  after 
images  and  similitudes  that  shall  help  him  comprehend  and  recall  the 
swiftly  crowding  forms  of  Nature's  massive  architecture.  He  taxes  his 
eyes  and  mind  and  memory  to  see  and  preserve,  until  he  can  have  leisure 
to  study  this  exhibition  of  the  depth  and  breadth  of  the  barrier  that  so 
long  has  loomed  before  him  in  silent  majesty,  yet  for  which  the  world 

9  193 


194 


THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 


has  found  no  better  name  than  the  Rocky  mountains.  He  has  gone  past 
it, — gone  over  it,  it  may  be;  now  he  is  going  through  it.  The  track,  as 
he  rushes  ahead,  seems  bodily  to  sink  deeper  and  deeper  into  the  earth,  as 
though  the  apparent  progress  forward  only  resulted  in  impotent  strug- 
gles to  keep  from  sinking  deeper,  like  an  exhausted  swimmer  in  swift 
waters.  The  roar  of  the  yeasty,  nebulous-green  river  at  his  side,  min- 
gles with  the  crashing  echoes  of  the  train,  reverberating  heavenward 
through  rocks  that  rise  perpendicularly  to  unmeasured  heights.  The 
ear  is  stunned,  and  the  mind  refuses  to  sanction  what  the  senses 
report  to  it. 

Then  a  new  surprise  and   almost  terror  comes.      The  train  rolls 
round  a  long  curve,  close  under  a  wall  of  black  and  banded  granite,  be- 


BROWN'S  CAffoN. 

side  which  the  ponderous  locomotive  shrinks  to  a  mere  dot,  as  if  swinging 
on  some  pivot  in  the  heart  of  the  mountain,  or  captured  by  a  centripetal 
i?orce  that  would  never  resign  its  grasp.  Almost  a  whole  circle  is  accom- 
plished, and  the  grand  amphitheatrical  sweep  of  the  wall  shows  no  break 
in  its  smooth  and  zenith-cutting  fa9ade.  Will  the  journey  end  here  ? 
Is  it  a  mistake  that  this  crevice  goes  through  the  range?  Does  not  all  this 
mad  water  gush  from  some  powerful  spring,  or  boil  out  of  a  subterra- 
nean channel  impenetrable  to  us? 

No,  it  opens.  Resisting  centripetal,  centrifugal  force  claims  the 
train,  and  it  breaks  away  at  a  tangent  past  the  edge  or  round  the  corner 
of  the  great  black  wall  which  compelled  its  detour,  and  that  of  the  river 
before  it.  Now  what  glories  of  rock-piling  confront  the  wide-distended 


SPLINTERED  AND  AIRY  PINNACLES.  195 

eye.  How  those  sharp-edged  cliffs,  standing  with  upright  heads  that 
play  at  hand-ball  with  the  clouds,  alternate  with  one  another,  so  that 
first  the  right,  then  the  left,  then  the  right  one  beyond  strike  on  our  view, 
each  one  half  obscured  by  its  fellow  in  front,  each  showing  itself  level- 
browed  with  its  comrades  as  we  come  even  with  it,  each  a  score  of  hun- 
dreds of  dizzy  feet  in  height,  rising  perpendicular  from  the  water  and 
the  track,  splintered  atop  into  airy  pinnacles,  braced  behind  against 
the  almost  continental  mass  through  which  the  chasm  has  been  cleft. 

This  is  the  Royal  Gorge  ! 

But  how  faintly  I  tell  it — how  inexpressible  are  the  wonders  of  plu- 
tonic  force  it  commemorates,  how  magnificent  the  pose  and  self-sustained 
majesty  of  its  walls,  how  stupendous  the  height  as  we  look  up,  the  depth 
if  we  were  to  gaze  timidly  down,  how  splendid  the  massive  shadows  at 
the  base  of  the  interlocking  headlands, —  the  glint  of  sunlight  on  the 
upper  rim  and  the  high  polish  of  the  crowning  points  !  One  must  catch 
it  all  as  an  impression  on  the  retina  of  his  mind's  eye, — must  memorize 
it  instantly  and  ponder  it  afterward.  It  is  ineffable,  but  the  thought  of 
it  remains  through  years  and  years  a  legacy  of  vivid  recollection  and 
delight,  and  you  never  cease  to  be  proud  that  you  have  seen  it. 

There  is  more  canon  after  that  —  miles  and  miles  of  it  —  the  Grand 
Canon  of  the  Arkansas.  In  and  out  of  all  the  bends  and  elbows,  gin- 
gerly round  the  promontories  whose  very  feet  the  river  laves,  rapidly 
across  the  small,  sheltered  nooks,  where  soil  has  been  drifted  and  a  few 
adventurous  trees  have  grown,  noisily  through  the  echoing  cuttings,  the 
train  rushes  westward  letting  you  down  gradually  from  the  tense  excite- 
ment of  the  great  chasm,  to  the  cedar  strewn  ledges  that  fade  out  into  the 
the  gravel  bars  and  the  park-like  spaces  of  the  open  valley  beyond 
Cotopaxi. 

Thomas  Paine  tells  us  in  his  Age  of  Reason:  "The  sublime  and 
the  ridiculous  are  often  so  nearly  related,  that  it  is  difficult  to  class 
them  separately."  It  is  good  philosophy  also,  that  the  higher  the  strain 
the  longer  the  rebound ;  so  no  excuse  is  needed  for  asking  you  to  enjoy 
as  heartily  as  we  did,  the  story  an  old  fellow  told  us  at  the  supper  sta- 
tion, who  dropped  the  hint  that  he  had  been  one  of  the  "  boys  "  who  had 
helped  push  the  railway  through  this  canon.  Moreover,  he  helped  us 
to  a  new  phase  of  human  nature  as  exemplified  in  the  mind  of  an 
"old  timer." 

The  influence  of  the  canon  on  the  ordinary  tourist,  perhaps,  will 
be  comparatively  transient,  fading  into  a  dream-like  memory  of  amazing 
mental  impressions.  Not  so  with  the  man  who  has  dwelt,  untutored, 
for  many  years,  amid  these  stupendous  hills  and  abysmal  gorges.  His 
imagination,  once  aroused  and  enlarged,  continues  to  expand;  his  fiction, 
once  created,  hardens  into  fact;  his  veracity,  once  elongated,  stretches 
on  and  on  forever.  Of  all  natural  curiosities  he  is  the  most  curious, — 
more  marvelous  than  even  the  Grand  Canon  itself. 


196  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

Strictly  sane  and  truthful  in  the  day-time,  he  speaks  only  of  com- 
monplace things;  but  when  the  night  comes,  and  the  huge  mountains 
group  themselves  around  his  camp-fire  like  a  circle  of  black  Cyclo- 
pean tents,  he  shades  his  face  from  the  blaze  and  bids  his  imagination 
stalk  forth  with  Titanic  strides.  Then,  if  his  hearers  are  in  sympathy, 
With  self  repressed  and  nonchalant  gravity,  he  pours  forth  in  copious 
detail  his  strange  experiences  with  bears  and  bronchos,  Indians  and  ser- 
pents, footpads  and  gamblers,  mines  and  mules,  tornadoes  and  forest- 
fires.  He  never  for  a  moment  weakens  the  effect  of  his  story  by  giving 
way  to  gush  and  enthusiasm ;  he  makes  his  facts  eloquent,  and  then 
relates  them  in  the  careless  monotone  of  one  who  is  superior  to  emotion 
under  any  circumstances. 

We  could  not  find  our  old-timer  in  these  most  favorable  circum- 
stances, but  ensconced  behind 

"  Sublime  tobacco!  which  from  east  to  west, 
Cheers  the  tar's  labors,  or  the  Turkman's  rest," 

he  seized  his  opportunity  in  our  discussion  of  the  heroic  engineering  by 
which  the  penetralia  of  the  Royal  Gorge  was  opened  to  the  locomotive, 
and  began  : 

"  Talk  about  blastin'!  *The  boy's  yarn  about  blowin'  up  a  moun- 
tain 's  nothin'  but  a  squib  to  what  we  did  when  we  blasted  the  Ryo 
Grand  railroad  through  the  Royal  Gorge. 

"  One  day  the  boss  sez  to  me,  sez  he, '  Hyar,  you,  do  you  know  how 
to  handle  gunpowder  ?  ' 

"Sez  I,  'You  bet !' 

"Sez  he,  'Do  you  see  that  ere  ledge  a  thousand  feet  above  us, 
stickin'  out  like  a  hat-brim?  '  Sez  I,  '  You  bet  I  do.' 

"  '  Wall,'  sez  he,  '  that  '11  smash  a  train  into  a  grease-spot  some  day, 
ef  we  don't  blast  it  off.' 

"  '.Jess  so,'  sez  I. 

"  Wall,  we  went  up  a  gulch,  and  clum  the  mountain  an'  come  to  the 
prissipass,  and  got  down  on  all  fours,  an'  looked  down  straight  three 
thousand  feet.  The  river  down  there  looked  like  a  lariat  a'  runnin'  after 
a  broncho.  I  began  to  feel  like  a  kite  a'  sailiu'  in  the  air  like.  Forty 
church  steeples  in  one  war'n't  nowhar  to  that  ere  pinnacle  in  the  clouds. 
An'  after  a  while  it  begun  rainin'  an*  snowin'  an'  hailin'  an'  thundrin' 
an'  doin'  a  reglar  tornado  biznis  down  thar,  an'  a  reglar  summer  day 
whar  we  wuz  on  top.  Wall,  there  wuz  a  crevice  from  where  wre  wuz, 
an*  we  sorter  slid  down  into  it,  to  within  fifty  feet  o'  the  ledge,  an'  then 
they  let  me  down  on  the  ledge  with  a  rope  an'  drill.  When  I  got  down 
thar,  I  looked  up  an'  sez  to  the  boss,  '  Boss,  how  are  ye  goin'  to  get  that 
'cussion  powder  down? '  Yer  see,  we  used  this  ere  powder  as  '11  burn 

*If  anybody  doubts  the  full  veracity  of  this  tale,  he  is  referred  to  Colonel  Nat.  Bab- 
cock,  of  Gunnison  City. 


ROCK-RENDING  DYNAMITE.  197 

like  a  pine-knot  'thout  explodin',  but  if  yer  happen  to  drop  it,  it  '11  blow 
yer  into  next  week  'fore  ye  kin  wink  yer  eye. 

"'Wall,'  sez  the  boss,  sez  he,  '  hyar's  fifty  pound,  an'  yer  must 
ketch  it.' 

"  *  Ketch  it,'  sez  I.  '  Hain't  ye  gettin'  a  little  keerless— s'pose  I  miss 
it? '  I  sez. 

•• '  But  ye  must  n't  miss  it,'  sez  he.  '  'T  seems  to  me  yer  gettin' 
mighty  keerful  of  yourself  all  to  wunst.' 

"  Sez  I,  *  Boss,  haul  me  up.  I'm  a  fool,  but  not  an  idgit.  Haul  me 
up.  I'm  not  so  much  afeared  of  the  blowin'  up  ez  of  the  comin'  down. 
If  I  should  miss  corain'  .onto  this  ledge,  thar's  nobody  a  thousan'  feet 
below  thar  to  ketch  me,  an'  I  might  get  drownded  in  the  Arkansaw,  for 
I  kain't  swim.' 

"  So  they  hauled  me  up,  an'  let  three  other  fellers  down,  an'  the  boss 
discharged  me,  an'  I  sot  down  sorter  behind  a  rock,  an'  tole  'em  they'd 
soon  have  a  fust-class  funeral,  and  might  need  me  for  pall-bearer. 

"  Wall,  them  fellers  ketched  the  dynamite  all  right,  and  put  'er  in, 
an'  lit  their  fuse,  but  afore  they  could  haul  'em  up  she  went  off.  Great 
guns!  'T  was  wuss  'n  forty  thousan'  Fourth  o'  Julys.  A  million  coy- 
otes an'  tin  pans  an'  horns  an'  gongs  ain't  a  sarcumstance.  Th'  hull 
gorge  fur  ten  mile  bellered,  an'  bellered,  an'  kep'  on  bellerin'  wuss  'n  a 
corral  o'  Texas  bulls.  I  foun'  myself  on  my  back  a  lookin'  up,  an'  th' 
las'  thing  I  seed  wuz  two  o'  them  fellers  a'  whirlm'  clean  over  the  moun- 
tain, two  thousan'  feet  above.  One  of  'em  had  my  jack-knife  an' 
tobacker,  but 't  was  no  use  cryin'.  'T  was  a  good  jack-knife,  though ;  I 
do  n't  keer  so  much  fur  the  tobacker.  He  slung  suthin'  at  me  as  he 
went  over,  but  it  did  n't  come  nowhar  near,  'n'  I  don't  know  yet  what 
it  was.  When  we  all  kinder  come  to,  the  boss  looked  at  his  watch,  'n' 
tole  us  all  to  witness  that  the  fellers  was  blown  up  just  at  noon,  an'  was 
only  entitled  to  half  a  day's  wages,  an'  quit  'thout  notice.  When  we  got 
courage  to  peep  over  an'  look  down,  we  found  that  the  hat-brim  was  n't 
busted  off  at  all ;  the  hull  thing  was  only  a  squib.  But  we  noticed  that 
a  rock  ez  big  ez  a  good-sized  cabin,  hed  loosened,  an'  hed  rolled  down 
on  top  of  it.  While  we  sat  lookin'  at  it,  boss  sez,  sez  he, 

"  '  Did  you  fellers  see  mor'n  two  go  up?  ' 

"  '  No,'  sez  we,  an'  pfetty  soon  we  heern  t'  other  feller  a'  hollerin', 
'  Come  down  'n  get  me  out ! ' 

"  Gents,  you  may  have  what's  left  of  my  old  shoe,  if  the  ledge  had  n't 
split  open  a  leetle,  'n'  that  chap  fell  into  the  crack,  'n'  the  big  rock  rolled 
onto  the  ledge  an'  sorter  gently  held  him  thar.  He  war  n't  hurt  a  har. 
We  wer  n't  slow  about  gettin'  down.  We  jist  tied  a  rope  to  a  pint  o' 
rock  an'  slid.  But  you  may  hang  me  for  a  chipmuck  ef  we  could  git 
any  whar  near  him,  an'  it  was  skeery  business  a  foolin'  roun'  on  that 
ere  verandy.  'T  war  n't  much  bigger  'n  a  hay-rack,  an'  a  thousan'  foot 
up.  We  hed  some  crowbars,  but  boss  got  a  leetle  excited,  an'  perty 


198  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

soon  bent  every  one  on  'em  tryin'  to  prize  off  that  bowlder  that  'd 
weigh  a  hundred  ton  like.  Then  agin  we  wuz  all  on  it,  fer  it  kivered 
th'  hull  ledge,  'n'  whar  'd  we  ben  ef  he  'd  prized  it  off  ?  All  the  while 
the  chap  kep'  a  hollerin',  '  Hurry  up ;  pass  me  some  tobacker  ! '  Oh,  it 
was  the  pitterfulest  cry  you  ever  heern,  an'  we  didn't  know  what  to  do 
till  he  yelled,  '  I'm  a  losin'  time;  hain't  you  goin'  to  git  me  out  ?'  Sez 
boss,  '  I  've  bent  all  the  crowbars,  an'  we  can't  git  you  out.' 

"  '  Got  any  dynamite  powder  ?  '  sez  the  feller. 

"'Yes.' 

"  '  Well,  then,  why  'n  the  name  of  the  Denver  'n'  Ryo  Grand  don't 
you  blast  me  out,'  sez  he. 

"  '  We  can't  blast  you  out,'  sez  boss,  '  fer  dynamite  busts  down,  an' 
it  '11  blow  you  down  the  canyon.' 

"  'Well,  then,'  sez  he,  'one  o'  ye  swing  down  under  the  ledge,  an' 
put  a  shot  in  whar  it's  cracked  below.' 

"  'You're  wiser  'n  a  woman,'  sez  boss.  'I  'd  never  thought  o' 
that.' 

"  So  the  boss  took  a  rope,  'n'  we  swung  him  down,  'n'  he  put  in  a 
shot,  'n'  was  goiii'  to  light  the  fuse,  when  the  feller  inside  smelt  the 
match. 

"  '  Heve  ye  tumbled  to  my  racket?  '  sez  he. 

"  '  You  bet  we  have,  feller  priz'ner! '  sez  the  boss. 

"  '  Touch  'er  off  ! '  sez  the  feller. 

"  '  All  right,'  sez  boss. 

"*  Hold  on  ! '  yells  the  feller  as  wuz  inside. 

"'What's  the  racket  now? 'sez  the  boss. 

"'You  hain't  got  the  sense  of  a  blind  mule,'  sez  he.  'Do  you 
s'pose  I  want  to  drop  down  the  canyon  when  the  shot  busts  ?  Pass  in 
a  rope  through  the  crack,  'n'  I'll  tie  it  'roun'  me,  'n'  then  you  can 
touch  'er  off  kind  o'  easy  like.' 

"  Wall,  that  struck  us  all  as  a  pious  idea.  That  feller  knowed 
more  'n  a  dozen  blind  mules — sed  mules  were  n't  fer  off,  neither.  Wall, 
we  passed  in  the  rope,  'n'  when  we  pulled  boss  up,  he  guv  me  'tother 
end  'n'  tole  me  to  hole  on  tighter  'n'  a  puppy  to  a  root.  I  tuck  the  rope, 
wrapped  it  'round  me  'n'  climb  up  fifty  feet  to  a  pint  o'  rock  right  under 
'nuther  pint  'bout  a  hundred  feet  higher,  that  kinder  hung  over  the 
pint  whar  I  wuz.  Boss  'n'  t'other  fellers  skedaddled  up  the  crevice 
'n'  hid. 

"  Purty  soon  suthin'  happened.  I  can't  describe  it,  gents.  The  hull 
canyon  wuz  full  o'  blue  blazes,  flyin'  rocks  'n'  loose  volcanoes.  Both 
sides  o'  the  gorge,  two  thousan'  feet  straight  up,  seemed  to  touch  tops  'n' 
then  swing  open.  I  wuz  sort  o'  dazed  'n'  blinded,  'n'  felt  ez  if  the  prisi- 
passes  'n'  the  mountains  wuz  all  on  a  tangle-foot  drunk,  staggerin'  like. 
The  rope  tightened  'round  my  stummick,  'n'  I  seized  onto  it  tight,  'n' 
yelled  : 


BROUGHT  TO   "TERRY  FIRMYS 


199 


"'  Hole  on,  pard,  I'll  draw  you  up!  Cheer  up,  my  hearty,'  sez  1, 
'  cheer  up  !  Jes  az  soon  'z  I  git  my  footin',  I'll  bring  ye  to  terry 
firmy  ! ' 

"  Ye  see,  I  wuz  sort  of  confused  'n'  blinded  by  the  smoke  V  dust, 
'n'  hed  a  queer  feelin',  like  a  spider  a  swingin'  an'  a  whirlin'  on  a  har. 
At  last  I  got  so'z  I  could  see,  'n'  looked  down  to  see  if  the  feller  wuz  a 
swingin'  clar  of  the  rocks,  but  I  could  n't  see  him.  The  ledge  wuz  blown 
clean  off,  'n'  the  canyon  seemed  'bout  three  thousan'  feet  deep.  My 


200  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

stummick  began  to  hurt  me  dreadful,  V I  squirmed  'round  V  looked  up, 
'n'  durn  my  breeches,  gents,  ef  I  was  n't  within  ten  foot  of  the  top  of 
the  gorge,  'n'  the  feller  ez  wuz  blasted  out  wuz  a  haulin'  on  me  up. 

"  Sez  I  when  he  got  me  to  the  top,  sez  I,  'Which  eend  of  this  rope 
wuz  you  on,  my  friend  ?  ' 

"'I  dunno,'  sez  he.     '  Which  eend  wuz  you  on  ? ' 

"  '  I  dunno,'  sez  I. 

"An',  gents,  to  this  day  we  can't  tell  ef  it  was  which  or  'tother  ez 
wuz  blasted  out." 

It  was  afternoon  and  we  were  weary — sated — with  sublimity;  so  we 
ran  straight  away  to  Leadville,  and  left  until  our  return  an  examination 
of  the  Arkansas  Valley. 


XX 

THE  ARKANSAS  VALLEY. 


And  he  gave  It  for  his  opinion,  that  whoever  could  make  two  ears  of  corn  or  two 
blades  of  grass,  to  grow  upon  a  spot  of  ground  where  only  one  grew  before,  would 
deserve  better  of  mankind,  and  do  more  essential  service  to  his  country,  than  the 
whole  race  of  politicians  put  together.— JONATHAN  SWIFT. 


HE  interest  of  the  Grand  Canon  of  the  Arkansas,  though 
it  culminates  between  the  narrow  walls  of  Royal  Gorge, 
by  no  means  ceases  there.  For  many  miles  after, 
immense  piles  of  rocks  are  heaped  on  each  side,  great 
crags  frown  down,  and  the  river  comes  tumbling  to 
meet  you  down  a  series  of  green  and  white  cataracts. 
The  walls  are  highly  colored,  and  the  whole  scene  exceedingly  inter- 
esting. Toward  the  western  end  there  is  a  break  in  the  gorge,  through 
which  fine  pictures  of  the  Sangre  de  Cristo  peaks  present  themselves 
close  by,  and  then  the  rocks  are  heaped  up  again  into  the  grand  defile 
of  Brown's  canon,  where  one  of  our  illustrations  was  made. 

Just  before  entering  Brown's  canon,  a  branch  road  can  be  seen  run- 
ning off  to  the  northward.  That  is  the  short  road  up  to  Calumet,  where 
the  Colorado  Coal  and  Iron  Company  have  iron  mines  of  great  value  and 
in  constant  operation,  for  the  ore  is  suitable  for  the  making  of  Bessemer 
steel.  These  mines  are  open,  quarry-like  excavations,  and  the  ore  is 
therefore  more  easily  handled  than  is  usual.  The  grade  on  this  branch, 
four  hundred  and  six  feet  to  the  mile,  is  said  to  be  the  heaviest  in  the 
world  where  no  cog-wheels  are  used.  Only  a  few  empty  cars  can  be 
hauled  up;  and  the  difficulty  is  almost  as  great  in  descending,  for  it 
requires  at  least  four  cars,  dragging  with  hard-set  brakes,  to  hold  an 
engine  under  control  in  going  down.  Marble  and  lumber  in  great  quan- 
tities are  also  shipped  down  this  little  branch  from  the  neighborhood  of 
Calumet. 

Passing  some  hot  mineral  springs,  where  are  bathing  arrangements, 
near  the  head  of  Brown's  canon,  the  train  runs  into  the  busy  yard  at 
Salida.  This  town  was  formerly  South  Arkansas,  and  I  surprise  the 
Madame  by  telling  her  that  no  longer  ago  than  1874,  I  pitched  a  tent 
where  it  now  stands  upon  ground  which  had  no  vestige  of  civilization 
near  it.  Salida  is  a  Spanish  word,  meaning  a  junction,  and  is  applica- 
ble in  two  ways.  It  is  at  the  confluence  of  the  Arkansas  with  its  large 
branch  from  the  south,  and  it  is  the  junction  of  the  northern  system  of 

201 


202 


THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 


railway  which  we  are  following  to  Leadville  and  beyond,  with  the  main 
line  going  west  from  here  to  Utah  and  California.  It  is  therefore  a  lively 
railway  center,  —  the  end  of  divisions,  the  headquarters  of  round-houses, 
repairing  shops,  etc.  Besides,  it  is  rapidly  growing,  and  increasing  in 
importance  as  a  busy  mercantile  center. 

The  valley  of  the  Arkansas   north  of  Salida,  we  see  as  we  go  on 
,  nourishes  much  agriculture,  which  continues  to  be  seen  —  at  least 


THE  OLD  ROUTE  TO   LEADVILLE. 

in  the  shape  of  hay  ranches — as  far  as  Riverside,  the  first  station  above 
JBuena  Vista.  There  Mr.  Leonhardy  has  seven  miles,  more  or  less,  under 
cultivation,  and  carries  on  a  highly  profitable  farm.  His  extensive  hay- 
barns  are  close  to  the  track,  and  his  horse-mowers  show  how  scientific- 
ally it  is  cut.  All  the  cereals  are  grown  there,  or  at  any  rate  have  been 
grown ;  but  wheat,  though  it  becomes  very  plump  and  hard,  has  so  pre- 
cariously brief  a  season  in  which  to  mature,  that  it  is  not  profitable,  and 
hence  no  great  amount  is  now  planted.  Of  oats,  rye  and  barley,  how- 
ever, hundreds  of  acres  are  cut  annually,  yielding  in  each  case  above  the 
average  number  of  bushels  to  the  acre  of  eastern  crops.  I  have  seen 
some  very  fine  samples  of  all  these  grains,  which,  of  course,  find  abun- 
dant sale  close  at  home,  and  hence  are  unheralded  outside. 

Then  in  the  way  of  "roots,"  large  plantations  are  made,  and  fine 
results  brought  about.  Potatoes  are  particularly  successful,  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  bushels,  or  about  fifteen  thousand  pounds  weight,  being 
the  ordinary  crop  expected  to  the  acre;  turnips,  beets,  onions,  etc., 
doing  equally  well  in  their  way.  The  only  things  that  can  not  be  pro- 
duced here,  in  fact,  are  such  tender  plants  as  melons,  squashes,  cucum- 
bers, and  the  like.  Even  these  may  often  be  brought  to  maturity  if 
their  beginnings  are  nurtured  under  glass,  but  as  a  matter  of  regular 
gardening,  they  are  not  considered  profitable. 

Apart  from  this  locality  not  much  farming  is  visible,  except  close 
to  Salida,  where  the  road  runs  over  the  top  of  a  dry  mesa, — one  of  the 
terraces  into  which  the  former  river  has  cut  the  glacial  gravels  of  the 


UP  THE  ARKANSAS.  203 

valley-margin.  Down  in  the  lower  "  bottoms,"  where  irrigation  is  very 
easy,  one  sees  some  miles  of  continuous  fields  cultivated  in  hay  and 
grain.  The  close  clusters  of  ranch-buildings,  the  stacks  of  straw,  the 
yellow  and  green  squares  of  stubble  and  the  black  threads  of  the  divid- 
ing fences,  with  the  diminutive  dots  of  men  moving  to  and  fro  with 
wagons,  recall  the  prairie  states.  We  also  note  the  number  of  cattle 
seen  all  along  the  lower  part  of  the  valley, — and  the  cheapness  and  excel- 
lence of  the  beef  we  bought  in  all  this  part  of  Colorado. 

Buena  Vista  is  a  town  of  considerable  size  and  seeming  solidity, 
which  is  prettily  placed  among  the  cottonwoods.  These  give  a  name  to 
the  stream  not  only,  but  to  the  expansion  of  the  valley,  which  is  known 
as  Cottonwood  park.  The  supply  point  not  only  for  the  Chalk  Creek 
mines  on  Mt.  Princeton,  but  for  the  remoter  settlements  on  the  other  side 
of  the  range,  Buena  Vista  seems  to  have  a  good  chance  for  long  life. 
One  sees  here  the  big,  trailed  wagons  in  all  their  glory,  and  the  voice 
of  the  burro  is  heard  in  the  land,  complaining  of  his  burdens  and  bewail- 
ing the  lost  friskiness  of  his  unfettered  youth. 

Below  Granite  we  pass  through  almost  a  canon.  The  inclined  and 
splintered  rocks  of  reddish  granite  and  gneiss  rise  very  high  at  certain 
points  on  the  eastern  bank  of  the  river,  and  the  water  itself  is  in  con- 
tinual ebullition  among  large  bowlders,  falling  meanwhile  at  such  a 
grade  that  the  track  cannot  follow  it,  but  must  needs  rise  away  above  it. 
The  scene  here  is  one  of  extreme  desolation.  There  is  nothing  pretty  in 
the  whole  landscape  short  of  the  small  snow-banks  that  remind  us  of 
scattered  sheep  browsing  on  the  crest  of  the  range.  Almost  the  only 
relief  to  the  sterility — sterile  not  only  in  respect  to  pleasing  vegetation, 
but  in  any  comfortable  suggestiveness — is  when  the  sun  shines  suddenly 
straight  down  some  rift-like  gulch  in  the  precipitous  walls,  transmuting 
what  seemed  a  crystal-clear  atmosphere  into  a  golden  dust  finer  than  any 
flakes  that  ever  came  out  of  the  gravels. 

Now  we  are  rapidly  approaching  Granite,  a  town  twenty-five  years 
old ;  and  presently  we  catch  sight  of  the  great  gold  placers  that  formerly 
made  the  fame  of  this  locality.  They  are  still  operated  in  a  quiet,  scien- 
tific method,  and  one  large  flume  crosses  the  track  at  a  height  of  fully 
fifty  feet.  The  western  bank  has  been  ploughed  up  by  water  and  turned 
topsy-turvy  over  a  long  area,  exposing  its  innermost  pebbles  and 
bowlders,  all  well  cleaned  and  white  by  their  second  scrubbing.* 

Three  miles  west  of  Granite  lie  the  charming  "Twin  Lakes,"  but 
we  are  frustrated  in  our  attempt  to  reach  them  on  the  only  day  we 
wished  to  spare  for  that  purpose. 

During  all  the  summer,  carriages  from  the  lake  meet  passenger 

*If  the  reader  cares  to  know  more  about  the  lively  times  that  used  to  occur  now  and 
then  In  Granite,  years  ago,  he  can  find  some  Incidents  in  my  "Knocking  'Round  the 
Rockies"  (New  York,  Harper  &  Brothers,  1882),  on  page  70  and  following. 


204 


THE  CREST  OF  THE   CONTINENT. 


trains  at  Twin  Lakes  station,  four  miles  above  Granite,  in  order  to  carry 
visitors  to  this  lake. 

"  Of  all  the  health  and  pleasure  resorts  of  the  upper  Arkansas  Val- 
ley," I  have  read,  "the  Twin  Lakes  are  perhaps  the  most  noted.  Water 
is  nowhere  too  plentiful  in  Colorado,  the  largest  rivers  being  usually 


THE    SHAFT    HOUSE. 

narrow  and  rapid  streams,  that 
seldom  form  an  important  feat- 
P  ure  in  the  extended  landscapes, 
and  these  lakes  are  all  the  more 
prized  for  constituting  an  exception. 
They  are  fourteen  miles  south  of  Lead- 
ville.  The  larger  of  the  two  lakes  is  two 
and  one-half  miles  in  length  by  one  and 
one-half  in  width,  and  the  other  about  half  that  size.  The  greatest 
depth  is  seventy-five  feet.  These  lakes  possess  peculiar  merits  as  a  place 
of  resort.  Lying  at  an  altitude  of  9,357  feet, — over  one  and  three-fourths 
miles, —  at  Lie  mouth  of  a  canon,  in  a  little  nook,  surrounded  by  lofty 
mountains,  from  whose  never-failing  snows  their  waters  are  fed,  their 
seclusion  invites  the  tired  denizens  of  dusty  cities  to  fly  from  debilitating 
heat  and  the  turmoil  of  traffic,  to  a  quiet  haven  where  Jack  Frost  makes 
himself  at  home  in  July  and  August.  On  the  lakes  are  numerous  sail 
and  row  boats,  and  fishing  tackle  can  always  be  obtained.  Both  lakes 
are  well  stocked  with  fish,  and  the  neighboring  streams  also  abound  in 
mountain  trout.  Surrounding  the  lakes  are  large  forests  of  pine,  that 


THE  TWIN  LAKES.  205 

add  their  characteristic  odor  to  the  air.  The  nearest  mountains,  whose 
forms  are  reflected  in  the  placid  waters,  are  Mount  Elbert,  14,351  feet  in 
height,  La  Plata,  14,311,— each  higher  than  Pike's  Peak,— Lake  Moun- 
tain, and  the  Twin  Peaks.  Right  royal  neighbors  are  these.  And  across 
the  narrow  Arkansas  valley  rises  Mount  Sheridan,  far  above  timber- 
line,  flanked  by  the  hoary  summits  of  the  Park  range.  The  hotel  and 
boarding-house  accommodations  are  good,  and  will  be  rapidly  extended. 
During  the  summer  months  there  is  an  almost  constant  round  of  church 
and  society  picnics  and  private  pleasure  parties  coming  down  to  the 
lakes  from  Leadville,  so  that  nearly  every  day  brings  a  fresh  influx  of 
visitors,  enlivening  the  resort,  and  dispelling  all  tendency  to  monotony. 

"Twin  Lakes  is  the  highest  of  all  the  popular  Rocky  Mountain 
resorts,  and  furnishes  an  unfailing  antidote  for  hot  weather.  Even  in 
midsummer  flannels  are  necessary  articles  of  apparel,  and  thick  woolen 
blankets  are  indispensable  at  night." 

There  are  mines  in  the  mountains  back  of  Twin  Lakes,  and  grad- 
ually a  permanent  settlement  is  growing  up  there,  which  is  reached  all 
the  year  round  by  stage  from  Leadville.  This  stage  passes  over  Hunt- 
er's pass,  and  carries  the  mail  to  some  important  camps  on  the  other 
side  of  the  range, —  Independence,  Highland,  et  cetera.  The  main 
point  of  interest,  I  hear,  is  at  Independence,  which  is  said  to  be  much 
such  a  camp  as  Kokomo,  and  standing  at  a  greater  altitude  than  even 
Leadville.  The  veins  are  true  fissures  filled  with  quartz  containing  free 
gold,  iron  and  copper  pyrites.  The  Farwell  Mining  company  are  the 
chief  operators,  and  have  recently  erected  what  has  been  pronounced 


BOTTOM    OF    THE    SHAFT. 


306  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

the  finest  stamp-mill  in  Colorado.  It  consists  of  thirty  stamps,  and  cost 
$2.87}^  cents  a  hundred  pounds  for  carriage  from  the  railway  to  its 
site.  This  feat  required  the  building  and  repair  of  roads  to  an  extent 
that  has  been  of  immense  benefit  to  the  public.  Besides  this  mill  there 


ATHWART  AN   INCLINE. 

is  an  old  one  of  twenty  stamps,  and  additions  are  to  be  made.  A  few 
miles  further  on,  is  the  flourishing  camp  of  Aspen,  standing  in  a  beautiful 
valley  7,500  feet  above  the  sea.  This  is  the  locality  of  the  Smuggler 
mine  owned  by  Mackay  and  other  Eastern  capitalists.  It  is  described 
as  "a  large  lead  of  fine-grained  galena,  carrying  native  silver  in  wire 
form."  Aspen  is  a  good  type  of  the  "  magic"  town,  where  lots  increase 
a  thousand  per  cent,  in  value  in  six  months. 

This  brings  us  to  Malta,  a  station  in  the  midst  of  a  wide  waste 
of  denuded  gravel,  where  we  turn  up  California  gulch  to  Leadville, 
bidding  good-bye,  for  a  little,  to  the  white  crests  of  the  Saguache  range, 
— Harvard,  Yale,  Princeton,  Antlers  and  others  that  have  been  our  con- 
stant companions.  Turn  where  we  will  in  this  region,  we  can  not  long 
escape  the  sight  of  snow-smothered  peaks.  It  is  impossible  to  get  away 
from  them.  This  river  valley  is  a  great  basin  surrounded  on  all  sides  by 
mountains  that  hasten  to  bid  winter  welcome  before  summer  has  thought 
of  saying  farewell  to  the  valleys.  As  in  that  wonderful  story,  wherein 
we  are  constantly  reminded  that  "  the  villain  still  pursued  her,"  so  here 
the  mountains  unceasingly  confront  us,  and  every  changing  mood  can 
be  studied  by  our  eager  eyes. 


CHARCOAL  MAKING. 


207 


Malta  seems  to  be  a  great  place  for  charcoal,  many  groups  of  the 
white  conical  ovens  being  visible  on  the  blackened  and  denuded  side- 
hills. 

Charcoal  is  an  extremely  important  element  in  smelting  operations, 
and  enormous  quantities  are  made,  to  the  destruction  of  all  the  forests, 
so  that  the  burners  have  to  go  farther  and  farther  with  their  ovens, 
or  else,  as  most  of  them  are  doing,  have  wood  brought  from  increasing 
distances.  A  favorite  method  is  to  build  a  flume  and  float  the  timber,  in 
short  pieces,  down  from  the  higher  woods;  or  else,  simply  to  make  a 
trough,  laying  it  partly  on  the  ground  and  partly  on  trestles,  so  as  to 
secure  proper  Jevelness.  It  is  great  fun  to  watch  them  shuteing  wood 
or  ties  (for  the  "tie-punchers"  adopt  the  same  expedient)  down  the 
slope  of  the  high,  steep  hills.  Little  choice  is  made  in  the  kind  of 
wood  burned. 

The  effect  of  these  charcoal  makers  is  very  plain  as  we  climb  up  the 
devious  track  through  the  hills  of  California  gulch  to  Leadville. 

The  trees  were  cut  which  once  stood  dense  over  the  whole  of  the 
gulch,  and  then  every  vestige  of  brushwood,  grass, — everything  was 
burned  away,  so  that  the  ash-strewn  soil  and  the  charred  stumps  alone 
remain  of  the  former  verdancy.  Into  this  oddly  desolate  tract  the  town 
has  pushed  itself  without  altering  it  much  for  the  better.  The  outer 


THE  JIG  DRILL. 


suburbs  of  a  town  are  seldom  pleasing,  and  Leadville  is  no  exception. 
The  burned  stumps,  thick  as  the  original  forest,  give  a  general  black 
aspect  to  the  whole  scene.  Fences  are  few,  and  amount  to  the  merest 
pretense  of  enclosures,  more  than  an  unbarked  pole  or  two,  strung  along 
the  boundary,  being  rare.  The  streets  are  mere  spaces,  for  there  is 


208  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

no  difference  at  all  between  the  outside  and  the  inside  of  the  fence.  The 
public  highway  finds  itself  as  best  it  can  among  the  stumps,  and  the 
householder  rarely  bothers  himself  to  pull  one  out  of  his  front  yard. 

This  is  not  mere  rough  neglect,  and,  in  the  center  of  town,  of 
course  does  not  exist.  It  shows  that  the  citizens,  as  a  rule,  do  not  care 
to  make  fine  their  surroundings,  because  they  have  not  come  to  stay. 
They  are  a  generation  of  pilgrims,  even  though,  under  endless  protest, 
they  may  linger,  or  be  held  here,  all  their  lives,  and  be  buried  in  the 
stony  little  graveyard,  under  the  yellow  fumes  of  the  smelters  down  the 
creek,  at  the  last.  Inside,  though,  the  houses  glow  with  pretty  things 
and  abound  in  luxuries.  Here,  men  combat  the  outward  roughness  and 
resolve  that  they  will  be  comfortable  in  compensation  for  the  inclemency 
outside. 

And  so  we  come  to  Leadville,  the  "  Camp  of  the  Carbonates." 


XXT 
THE  CAMP  OF  THE  CARBONATES. 


Moored  In  the  rifted  rock, 

Proof  to  the  tempest's  shock, 

Firmer  he  roots  him  the  ruder  It  blow. 

—SCOTT. 


F  the  men  who  sprang  from  the  stones  Deucalion  cast 
behind  him  set  themselves  to  make  homes,  the  result 
must  have  been  a  close  counterpart  of  Leadville,  Colo- 
rado." Such  was  the  phrase  with  which  the  present 
writer  began  an  article  upon  the  "Camp  of  the  Car- 
bonates," printed  in  Scribner's  Monthly  for  October, 
1879.  Though  the  Eeadville  of  to-day  has  graduated  from  the  over- 
grown mining  camp  it  then  was,  into  a  pretentious  city  of  twenty  thous- 
and people,  and  boasts  all  the  "improvements,"  yet  the  interest  con- 
nected with  the  town,  for  the  world  at  large,  is  chiefly  historical. 

Historical !  Why,  Leadville  is  only  seven  years'  old  now;  but  the 
years  have  been  eventful,  and  history  is  made  fast  in  this  state. 

The  site  of  Leadville  has  a  pre-historic  interest  also, — almost  mytho- 
logical in  fact,  for  have  not  five  and  twenty  years  crept  by  since  then. 
This  is  the  well  verified  tradition  : 

"After  the  rush  to  Pike's  Peak,  in  1859,  which  was  disappointing 
enough  to  the  majority  of  prospectors,  a  number  of  men  pushed  west- 
ward. One  party  made  their  way  through  Ute  pass  into  the  grand  mead- 
ows of  South  Park,  and  crossing,  pressed  on  to  the  Arkansas  valley,  up 
which  they  proceeded,  searching  unsuccessfully  for  gold,  until  they 
reached  a  wide  plateau  on  the  right  bank,  where  a  beautiful  little 
stream  came  down.  Following  this  nearly  to  its  source,  along  what 
they  called  California  gulch,  they  were  delighted  to  find  placers  of 
gold.  This  was  in  the  midsummer  of  1860  ;  and  before  the  close  of  the 
hot  weather,  ten  thousand  people  had  emigrated  to  the  Arkansas,  and 
$2,500,000  had  been  washed  out,  one  of  the  original  explorers  taking 
twenty-nine  pounds  of  gold  away  with  him  in  the  fall,  besides  selling  for 
$500  a  'worked  out'  claim  from  which  $15,000  was  taken  within  the 
next  three  months.  Now  this  same  '  exhausted '  gravel  is  being  washed 
a  third  or  fourth  time  with  profit. 

"  The  settlement  consisted  of  one  long  street  only,  and  houses,  even 
of  logs,  were  so  few  that  the  camp  was  known  as  'Boughtown,'  every- 
body abandoning  the  wickyups  in  winter,  when  the  placers  could  not  be 

9*  209 


210  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

worked,  and  retreating  to  Denver.  During  the  summer,  however, 
Boughtown  witnessed  some  lively  scenes.  One  day  a  stranger  came 
riding  up  the  street  on  a  gallop,  splashing  mud  everywhere,  only  to 
be  unceremoniously  halted  by  a  rough  looking  customer  who  covered 
him  with  a  revolver  and  said: 

"  '  Hold  on  there,  stranger!  When  ye  go  through  this  yere  town, 
go  slow  so  folks  can  take  a  look  at  ye! ' 

"No  money  circulated  there;  gold-dust  served  all  the  purposes  of 
trade,  and  every  merchant,  saloon-keeper  and  gambler  had  his  scales. 
The  phrase  was  not  '  Cash  up,'  but  '  Down  with  your  Dust/  and  when  a 
man's  buck-skin  wallet  was  empty,  he  knew  where  to  fill  it  again.  It 
was  not  long,  however,  before  the  placers  were  all  staked  off,  and  the 
claims  began  to  be  exhausted.  Then  the  town  so  dwindled  that,  in  half 
a  dozen  years,  only  a  score  were  left  of  the  turbulent  multitude,  who,  in 
'60  and  '61,  made  the  gulch  noisy  with  magical  gains  and  unheeded  loss. 
Among  the  last  of  their  acts  was  to  pull  down  the  old  log  gambling  hall, 
and  to  pan  two  thousand  dollars  out  of  the  dirt  where  the  gamblers  had 
dropped  the  coveted  gains.  This  done  every  body  .moved  elsewhere,  and 
the  frightened  game  returned  to  thread  the  aspen  groves  and  drink 
at  the  once  more  translucent  streams  of  California  gulch,  where  eight 
millions  of  dollars  had  been  sifted  from  the  pebbles. 

"  One  striking  feature  of  this  old  placer-bar  had  impressed  itself 
unpleasantly  upon  all  the  gold-seekers.  In  the  bottoms  of  their  pans 
and  rockers,  at  each  washing  there  accumulated  a  black  sand  so  heavy 
that  it  interfered  with  the  proper  settling  of  the  gold,  and  so  abundant 
that  it  clogged  the  riffles.  Who  first  determined  this  obnoxious  black 
sand  to  be  carbonate  of  lead  is  uncertain.  It  is  said  that  it  was  assayed 
in  1866,  but  not  found  valuable  enough  to  pay  transportation  to  Denver, 
then  the  nearest  point  at  which  it  could  be  smelted.  One  of  the  most 
productive  mines  now  operated  is  said  to  have  been  discovered  in  '67, 
and  in  this  way:  Mr.  Long,  at  that  time  the  most  poverty-stricken 
of  prospectors,  went  out  to  shoot  his  breakfast,  and  brought  down  a 
deer;  in  its  dying  struggles  the  animal  kicked  up  earth  which  appeared 
so  promising  that  Long  and  his  partner  Derry  located  a  claim  on  the 
spot.  The  Camp  Bird,  Rock  Lode,  La  Plata  and  others  were  opened 
simultaneously  outside  the  placers,  but  all  these  were  worked  for  gold, 
and  though  even  then  it  seemed  to  have  been  understood  in  a  vague  way 
that  the  lead  ores  were  impregnated  with  silver,  nobody  profited  by  the 
information.  Thus  years  passed,  and  I  and  many  another  campaigner 
in  that  grand  solitude,  riding  over  those  verdant  slopes,  passing  beneath 
those  somber  pine  woods,  camped,  hunted,  even  mined  at  what  nov? 
is  Leadville,  and  never  suspected  the  wealth  we  trampled  upon. 

"  Among  the  few  men  who  happened  to  be  iu  the  region  in  1877, 
was  A.  B.  Wood,  a  shrewd,  practical  man,  who,  finding  a  large  quantity 
of  the  heavy  black  sand,  tested  it  anew  and  extracted  a  large  proportion  of 


212  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

silver.  He  confided  in  Mr.  William  H.  Stevens,  and  they  together  began 
searching  for  the  source  of  this  sand-drift,  and  decided  it  must  be  between 
the  limestone  outcropping  down  the  gulch  and  the  porphyry  which 
composed  the  summit  of  the  mountain.  Sinking  trial  shafts  they  sought 
the  silver  mean.  It  took  time  and  money,  and  the  few  placer-washers 
there  laughed  at  them  for  a  pair  of  fools;  but  the  men  said  nothing,  and 
in  the  course  of  a  few  weeks  they  '  struck  it.'  Then  came  a  period  of 
excitement  and  particularly  lively  times  for  the  originators  of  the  enter- 
prise. Mr.  Stevens  was  a  citizen  of  Detroit,  and  finding  a  chance  for 
abundant  results  from  labor,  but  no  laborers  wherewith  to  '  make  the 
riffle,'  he  went  back  to  Detroit  and  persuaded  several  scores  of  adven- 
turous men  to  come  out  here  and  amuse  themselves  with  carbonates. 

"They  came,  hilariously,  no  doubt,  with  high  anticipations  of  sud- 
den wealth  and  the  fulfilling  of  wide  ambitions;  came  to  find  the  snow 
deep  upon  the  ground,  and  winter  bravely  entrenched  among  the  gray 
cliffs  of  Mosquito  and  the  Saguache.  No  one  could  work ;  every  one 
was  tantalized  and  miserable ;  discontent  reigned.  It  was  the  old  story 
of  Baker  and  the  San  Juan  silver  fields.  They  took  Wood  and  Stevens, 
imprisoned  them  in  a  cabin,  and  even  went  so  far  toward  the  suggestion 
of  hanging  as  to  noose  the  rope  around  their  necks.  At  this  critical 
moment,  reprieve  came  in  the  shape  of  a  capitalist  who  appeased  the 
hungry  crowd  with  cash  and  stayed  their  purpose  until  the  weather 
moderated  and  digging  could  be  begun. 

"  As  spring  advanced  and  the  mountains  became  passable,  there 
began  a  rush  into  the  camp,  for  the  report  of  this  wonderful  rejuven- 
ation of  the  old  district  had  spread  far  and  wide.  The  Denver  newspa- 
pers took  up  the  laudation  of  the  region.  The  railways  approaching 
nearest,  advertised  the  camp  all  over  the  East  for  the  sake  of  patronage; 
and  many  an  energetic  prospector,  and  greedy  saloon-keeper,  and  many 
a  business  man  who  wanted  to  profit  by  the  excitement,  started  for  Lead- 
ville.  It  was  early  spring;  the  snow  lay  deep  on  the  lofty  main  range  of 
the  Rocky  mountains  which  had  to  be  crossed,  and  filled  the  treacherous 
passes,  but  the  impatient  emigrants  could  not  wait.  To  be  first  into 
Leadville  was  the  aim  and  ambition  of  hundreds  of  excited  men,  and  to 
accomplish  this,  human  life  was  endangered  and  mule  flesh  recklessly 
sacrificed.  Companies  were  organized,  who  put  on  six-horse  stages 
from  Denver,  Canon  City  and  Colorado  Springs,  and  ran  three  or  four 
coaches  together,  yet  private  conveyances  took  even  more  than  the 
stages,  and  hundreds  walked,  braving  the  midwinter  horrors  of  Mos- 
quito pass. 

"Meanwhile  an  almost  continuous  procession  of  mule  and  ox  trains 
were  striving  to  haul  across  that  frightful  hundred  miles  of  mountains 
the  food,  machinery  and  furniture  which  the  new  settlement  so  sorely 
needed,  and  which  it  seemed  so  impossible  to  supply.  Ten  cents  and 
more  a  pound  was  charged  for  freight,  and  prices  ranged  correspond- 


EAHLY  DATS  Off  LEADVILLE.  213 

ingly  high,  with  an  exorbitant  profit  added.  Hay,  for  example,  reached 
$200  per  ton. 

' '  Nor  were  all  who  came  rough  or  even  hardy  characters.  There 
were  among  them  men  of  wealth  and  brains,  young  graduates  of  col- 
leges eager  for  a  business  opening,  engineers  and  surveyors,  lawyers, 
doctors,  and  a  thousand  soft-handed  triflers  who  hoped  to  make  a  living 
in  some  undefined  way  out  of  the  general  excitement.  Many  of  these 
gentlemen  went  to  stay  and  took  their  wives,  or,  more  usually,  waited 
until  they  had  prepared  some  sort  of  a  home,  and  then  sent  for  them. 
What  stories  some  of  these  ladies  tell  of  their  stage-journey  through 
those  wintry  mountains!  How  many  wagons,  heavily  loaded  with 
freight,  did  they  see  overturned  by  the  roadside!  How  many  dead 
mules  and  horses  did  they  count!  How  many  snow-banks  did  they  fall 
through!  how  many  precipices  escape!  how  many  upsettings  avoid  by 
the  merest  margin  of  consummate  good  driving!  I  knew  of  three  ladies 
who  for  twenty-four  hours  were  packed  in  a  stage  with  a  lot  of  drunken 
men,  who  could  only  be  kept  within  the  bounds  of  decorum  and  safety  by 
being  sung  to  sleep.  The  driver  was  utterly  powerless  to  control  them, 
and  had  as  much  as  he  could  do  to  steer  his  six  horses  over  that  icy 
road.  The  crazy  men  said,  '  Sing  to  us.  we  like  it,  and  if  you  don't 
we'll  dump  you  into  the  snow  !'  and  sing  they  did,  all  night  long. 
Whether  this  incident  be  considered  laughable  or  pathetic,  it  is  literally 
true.  In  the  summer  the  stage  passenger  was  not  frozen,  but  was 
choked  to  slow  death  by  impenetrable  clouds  of  dust,  and  in  the  seasons 
between  he  was  engulfed  in  mud.  Verily  that  hundred  miles  of  staging 
at  fifteen  cents  a  mile,  with  only  thirty  pounds  of  baggage  allowed  free, 
was  the  Purgatory  of  Leadville,  and  helped  wonderfully  to  make  one 
contented  with  his  reception. 

"With  the  beginning  of  1879,  the  steady  current  that  had  flagged 
somewhat  during  the  tempestuous  last  months  of  1878,  burst  into  a  per- 
fect freshet  of  travel.  Log  huts,  board  shanties,  canvas  tents,  kennels 
dug  into  the  side  hill  and  roofed  with  earth  and  pine  boughs,  were  filled 
to  repletion  with  men  and  women,  and  still  proved  insufficient  to  shield 
the  eager  immigrants  from  the  arctic  air  and  pitiless  storms  of  this 
plateau  in  the  high  Sierras.  Men  were  glad  to  pay  for  the  privilege 
of  spreading  their  overcoats  or  blankets  on  the  floor  of  a  saloon  and 
sleeping  in  stale  smoke  and  the  fumes  of  bad  whisky — an  atmosphere 
where  the  sooty  oil  lamps  burned  with  a  weak  and  yellow  flame.  Per- 
haps the  dice  rattled  on  till  morning  above  the  sleepers'  heads,  the 
monotonous  call-song  of  the  dealers  lulling  them  to  an  unquiet  doze 
in  the  murky  air,  only  to  be  awakened  by  the  loud  profanity  of  some 
brawler  or  sent  cowering  under  the  blankets  to  escape  the  too  free  pistol- 
balls  that  fly  across  the  billiard  table.  Even  the  sawdust  floors  of  these 
reeking  bar-rooms  were  not  spacious  enough  to  hold  the  two  hundred 
persons  a  day  who  rushed  into  Leadville,  and  every  dry-goods  box  upon 


214 


THE  CREST  OP  THE   CONTINENT. 


the  curbstone,  every  pile  of  hay-bales  in  the  alley,  became  a  bedroom  for 
some  belated  traveler. 

"But  the  era  of  saloon-floors  and  empty  barrels  did  not  last 
long.  Enterprising  men  built  huge  hotels,  and  opened  restaurants  and 
great  lodging  tents  and  barracks ;  strangers  joined  in  twos  and  threes, 
cut  logs  and  planted  cabins  as  thick  as  corn.  .  .  Every  day  chroni- 
cle d  some  new  acces- 
sion of  wealth,  some 
additional  tapping  of 
the  silver  deposits 
which  were  firmly 
believed  to  underlie 
every  square  foot  of 
the  region.  It  seem- 
ed all  a  matter  of 
luck,  too,  and  skilled 
prospecting  found 
itself  at  fault.  The 
spots  old  miners  had 
passed  by  as  worth  - 
less,  'tenderfeet' 
from  Ohio  dug 
down  upon,  and 
showed  to  be  rich  in 
'mineral.'  One  of 
the  first  mines 
opened  —  the  Camp 
Bird  —  was  discov- 
ered by  the  Galla- 
gher brothers,  two 
utterly  poor  Irish- 
men. Another  early 
piece  of  good  for- 
tune was  that  of 
Fryer,  from  whom 
Fryer  Hill,  one  of 
the  most  productive 
districts,  derives  its 
name.  He  lived  in 
a  squatty  little  cabin 
on  the  sid^  hill 
where  the  dirt  flocr 
had  become  as  hilly 
as  a  model  of  the 

CASCADES  OF  THE  BLU.  maln  T^^   and  the 


THE  DEAD  MAN  CLAIM.  215 

rough  stone  fire-place  in  the  corner  was  hardly  fit  to  fry  a  rasher  of 
bacon;  but  one  day  he  dug  a  hole  up  near  the  top  of  the  hill,  hiding 
himself  among  the  secret  pines,  saying  nothing  to  anybody,  and  a  few 
yards  below  the  surface  struck  a  mine  which  has  already  yielded 
millions  of  dollars  without  being  urged.  Innumerable  incidents  might 
be  related  of  the  patience  and  expense  and  hardship  which  resulted  in 
failure;  of  the  equal  pluck  and  endurance  that  brought  success;  of 
happy  chance  or  perfect  accident  divulging  a  fortune  at  the  most  unex- 
pected point.  The  miners  have  a  proverb,  '  Nobody  can  see  into  the 
ground,'  and  the  gamblers  an  adage,  'The  only  thing  sure  about  luck 
is  that  it's  bound  to  change ! ' 

"One  of  the  grimmest  of  these  tales  is  that  attached  to  the  Dead 
Man  claim,  which  is  briefly  as  follows:  It  was  winter.  Scotty  had 
died,  and  the  boys,  wanting  to  give  him  a  right  smart  of  a  burial,  hired 
a  man  for  twenty  dollars  to  dig  a  grave  through  ten  feet  of  snow  and  six 
feet  of  hard  ground.  Meanwhile,  Scotty  was  stuffed. into  a  snow  bank. 
Nothing  was  heard  of  the  grave-digger  for  three  days,  and  the  boys, 
going  out  to  see  what  had  happened  to  him,  found  him  in  a  hole  which, 
begun  as  a  grave,  proved  to  be  a  sixty-ounce  mine.  The  quasi  sexton 
refused  to  yield,  and  was  not  hard  pushed,  for  Scotty  was  forgotten  and 
staid  in  the  snow  bank  till  the  April  sun  searched  him  out,  the  boys 
meanwhile  sinking  prospect-holes  in  his  intended  cemetery. 

"  One  mine  had  its  shaft  down  one  hundred  and  thirty-five  feet  and 
the  indications  of  success  were  good.  Some  capitalists  proposed  to  pur- 
chase an  interest  in  it,  and  a  half  of  the  mine  was  offered  them  for 
$10,000,  if  taken  before  five  o'clock.  At  half-past  four,  rich  silver 
ore  was  struck,  and  when  at  half -past  five  the  tardy  men  of  money 
came  leisurely  up  and  signified  their  consent  to  the  bargain,  the  manager 
pointed  at  the  clock,  and  quietly  remarked : 

"  'The  price  of  a  half  interest  in  this  mine  now,  gentlemen,  is  sixty 
thousand  dollars.' 

"Prospectors  went  everywhere  seeking  for  carbonates,  radiating 
from  this  center  up  all  the  gulches,  and  over  the  foot-hills,  delving 
almost  everywhere  at  a  venture.  One  day,  at  a  hitherto  unheard-of 
point,  wealth  comes  up  by  the  bucketful  out  of  the  deep  narrow  hole, 
that  has  been  pierced  so  unostentatiously.  Instantly  the  transformation 
begins,  and  the  lately  green  hill-side,  refreshing  to  the  townsman's  eye, 
becomes  forlorn  in  its  ragged  exposure  of  rock  and  soil  where  the  forest 
has  been  swept  away,  while  trial-mines  grow  as  thickly  upon  its  surface 
as  pits  on  the  rind  of  a  strawberry.  All  these  young  mines,  good  or  bad, 
looked  much  alike,  and  were  equally  inaccessible  and  unkempt.  There 
were  no  roads,  hardly  any  wagon-tracks  and  few  paths.  Every  man 
went  across  lots,  the  shortest  way,  pushing  through  the  remnant  of  the 
woods,  clambering  over  the  prostrate  trunks  and  discarded  tree-tops, 
whose  straight  trunks  had  been  felled  and  dragged  away  to  the  saw- 


216  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

mill,  or  chopped  into  six-foot  lengths  for  posts  and  logging.  Teams 
must  go  around,  but  life  was  too  short  for  the  man  afoot  to  follow  them; 
holding  his  painful  breath,  he  scaled  straight  up  the  steep  and  slippery 
ascent. 

"But  it  is  time  to  say  something  of  the  processes  of  getting  out  the 
ores,  and  perhaps  the  best  way  is  at  once  to  attack  the  geological  struct- 
ure of  the  region. 

"Leadville  appears  to  lie  upon  the  eastern  edge  of  the  lava  area 
of  the  state.  The  last  of  the  trachyte  peaks  are  at  the  head  of  Mosquito 
pass.  Underneath  the  camp,  and  on  all  the  hills  where  her  riches  are 
stored,  the  soil  is  found  to  be  a  porphyritic  overflow  overlying  a  highly 
silicified  dolomite,  that  goes  by  the  common  name  of  '  limestone.'  Be- 
tween these  two  formations  (i.  e.,  under  the  porphyry  and  above  the 
dolomite)  are  found  the  mineral  beds.  Various  theories  have  been 
advanced  as  to  the  reason  for  their  position,  so  novel  in  the  experience 
of  silver  mining,  and  some  of  the  explanations  are  a  burlesque  of  geology, 
though  uttered  in  dead  earnest.  Those  who  are  best  qualified  to  decide, 
although  confessing  limited  observation,  suggest  what  seems  to  me  the 
simplest  theory  and  the  one  nearest  the  truth.  The  mineral  constituents 
of  the  ores  are  carbonate  of  lead  in  large  quantity,  silica,  oxides  of  iron 
and  manganese,  and  the  precious  chloride  of  silver.  Sometimes  the  lead 
occurs  as  a  sulphide,  and  there  are  some  other  insignificant  components. 
Now  it  is  possible  that  the  original  constituent  parts  of  all  these  miner- 
als should  be  contained  in  a  porphyritic  eruption.  Deposits  of  galena 
and  some  other  minerals  are  now  occasionally  found  buried  in  the 
porphyry,  or  occupying  slender  fissure-veins  through  it.  Moreover,  all 
these  minerals  are  capable  of  solution  in  water  charged  with  carbonic 
acid,  which,  of  course,  was  present  in  abundance,  and  the  suggestion 
is  that  they  have  leached  downward  through  the  porphyry  until  they 
struck  the  limestone  floor,  which  became  in  time  so  highly  silicified, 
as  to  admit  no  further  penetration  of  water,  whereupon  the  valuable 
deposits  that  we  are  now  prying  out  gradually  accumulated.  The 
silicified  surface  of  the  lime,  and  the  semi  -  saturated  line  of  the 
porphyry,  next  the  carbonate,  are  known  as  the  '  contacts ;'  and  when 
the  miners  strike  this,  they  have  good  cause  to  be  hopeful  of  near 
success.  The  presence  of  great  beds  of  kaolin  (hydrated  silicate  of 
alumina),  derived  from  the  thorough  decomposition  of  porphyry  or  gra- 
nite, or  both  together,  and  the  presence  of  hydrate  of  magnesia  with 
beds  of  semi-opal  (always  an  aqueous  production),  argue  in  favor  of 
the  truth  of  this  explanation. 

"The  general  fact  of  this  position  of  the  ores  being  understood, 
let  me  suppose  that  our  prospectors  have  been  more  than  ordinarily 
successful;  that  they  have  dug  not  more  than  a  hundred  feet,  have 
curbed  their  shaft  securely  with  timber,  have  struck  the  greenish- white 
porphyry,  and  finally  have  raftt  with  the  longed  for  '  contact,'  which  sep- 


MINING  FOR  CARBONATES.  217 

arates  the  mineral  bearing  rock  from  the  barren  gangue.  They. have 
been  little  troubled  by  water,  and  they  have  done  all  their  work  with  the 
help  of  one  man,  and  the  ordinary  windlass.  There  being  every  indi- 
cation that  wealth  is  just  beneath  their  picks,  they  erect  over  the  shaft 
a  frame- work  of  heavy  timbers,  called  a  'gallows,'  and  hang  in  it  a 
large  pulley.  A  little  at  one  side,  close  to  the  ground,  is  fixed  a  second 
pulley.  Under  this,  and  over  the  upper  one  is  reeved  the  bucket-rope, 
and  a  mule  is  hired  to  walk  away  with  it,  when  the  bucket  is  to  be 
drawn  up,  creeping  back  when  the  bucket  goes  down.  This  is  a  '  whip.' 
The  next  advance  in  machinery  is  the  '  whim,'  which  consists  of  the 
same  arrangement  of  gallows  and  pulleys  as  before;  but  instead  of  a 
mule  walking  straight  out  and  back,  the  mule  travels  round  and  round 
a  huge  revolving  drum,  that  carries  the  hoisting-rope.  If  you  care  to  go 
down  one  of  these  shafts  you  may  stand  in  the  bucket,  or  you  may 
unhook  it,  and,  placing  your  foot  in  a  noose,  be  lowered  away  in  the 
bucket's  place.  If  your  head  is  strong  there  is  no  great  danger. 

"  When  the  miner  really  '  strikes  it,'  and  the  brown,  crumbling, 
ill-looking  ore  begins  to  fill  the  bucket  to  the  exclusion  of  all  else,  assay- 
ing fifty  or  a  hundred  or  four  hundred  ounces  to  the  ton,  a  house  is 
built  over  the  shaft,  and  a  steam-engine  supersedes  the  patient  mule. 

"  The  depth  at  which  a  mine  may  be  found  (if  at  all)  can  hardly 
even  be  guessed  at.  Paying  '  mineral '  has  been  met  with  from  the  sur- 
face to  more  than  three  hundred  and  fifty  feet  in  depth.  Usually  the 
shafts  are  over  a  hundred  feet  deep. 

"The  deposit  having  been  tapped,  digging  out  the  ore  begins. 
This  is  done  by  means  of  horizontal  passage-ways  or  tunnels,  known  as 
'  drifts, '  which  are  driven  into  the  rock  from  the  bottom  of  the  shaft. 

"  As  the  ores  are  brought  to  the  surface  they  are  scanned  by  an 
experienced  person,  and  the  best  pieces  thrown  in  a  heap  by  themselves, 
while  the  ordinary  ore  is  cast  upon  the  '  dump  '  or  pile  which  accumu- 
lates at  the  mouth  of  the  mine,  and  makes  a  little  ruddy  terrace  on  the 
green  or  snowy  hill-side.  From  this  dump  wagons  haul  the  ore  away  to 
be  sold,  the  best  part  often  being  put  in  hundred-pound  sacks,  about  as 
large  as  quarter-barrel  flour-bags,  before  being  sold.  Very  rich  ore  is 
likely  to  be  bought  by  regular  purchasers,  who  either  have  them  smelted 
in  Leadville  or  forward  them  to  smel ting-works  at  Pueblo,  Denver, 
St.  Louis,  and  Eastern  cities.  The  inferior  grades  are  sold  by  the  ton 
to  some  one  of  the  dozen  smelters  here  in  town,  the  price  being  gov- 
erned by  the  market  quotations  of  silver  in  New  York  on  the  day  of  the 
sale,  less  several  deductions  amounting  in  all  to  about  twenty-five  per 
cent,  as  the  reducer's  margin  for  profit,  and  plus  three  to  five  cents 
per  pound  for  all  the  lead  above  twenty-one  per  cent,  which  the  ore 
carries.  Silver  and  gold  are  estimated  in  ounces;  lead  and  copper  in 
percentages ;  but  allowance  is  not  made  for  both  of  the  latter  metals  in 
the  same  ore.  The  ore  is  hauled  to  the  smelting- works  by  four  or  six- 
10 


218  THE  CREST  OF  TIIE  CONTINENT. 

mule  teams,  for  the  most  part,  the  driver  not  sitting  on  the  wagon, 
but  riding  the  nigh  wheeler,  guiding  his  team  by  a  single  very  strong 
rein  which  goes  to  the  bits  of  the  leaders,  and  handling  the  brake  by 
another  strap.  He  is  in  the  position  of  a  steersman  in  the  middle  of  his 
craft,  and  his  '  bridge  '  is  the  saddle.  Every  load  is  set  upon  the  scales, 
recorded,  and  then  shoveled  into  its  proper  bin.  A  thin-faced,  dusty- 
haired  youth  leaned  half  asleep  against  a  shady  corner  at  one  of  these 
mills,  recording  the  tons  and  fractions  of  a  ton  in  each  load  as  he  lazily 
adjusted  the  balance.  His  air  was  of  one  so  utterly  listless  and  bored 
that  I  was  moved  to  remark  cheerily  as  I  went  by : 

"  'You  haven't  chosen  the  most  exciting  part  of  this  business.' 

".'No,'  he  answered  dryly,  while  an  indescribable  twinkle  came 
into  his  carbonated  countenance.  '  No,  but  I'm  trying  to  do  my  duty. 
You  know  the  poet  says,  "  They  also  serve  who  only  stand  and  weigh  it."  ' 

"  That  fellow  had  a  history,  but  I  haven't  time  to  tell  it.  Leadville 
is  full  of  such  characters,  and  it  only  needs  to  put  one's  self  en  rapport 
with  their  happy-go-lucky  good  humor  and  stoicism  under  all  sorts  of 
fortune  to  find  these  miners,  at  heart,  the  best  fellows  in  the  world. 
They  have  a  high  regard  for  a  gentleman,  but  a  hatred  of  a  swell; 
no  objection  to  good  clothes,  but  a  horror  of  'frills;'  a  high  respect  for 
genuine  virtue,  but  boundless  hatred  of  cant;  an  admiration  for  nerve 
amounting  to  worship,  but  a  contempt  of  braggadocio  that  often  results 
in  an  impulsive  puncturing  of  both  the  braggart  and  his  boasts.  A 
'tender-foot,'  that  is,  a  new  arrival  from  the  East,  green  in  the  ways  of 
mountain  life,  they  consider  fair  game  for  tricks  and  chaff.  Usually 
they  attempt  to  frighten  him,  and  his  behavior  at  such  initiatory 
moments  determines,  to  a  large  extent,  his  future  standing  in  the  camp. 

"But  this  is  a  digression  from  the  subject  in  hand,  which  is  the 
reduction  of  the  ores.  The  smelters  cannot  be  allowed  to  cool  off,  and 
so  are  run  the  twenty  four  hours  through.  One  evening  we  made  up 
a  party  and  visited  one  of  the  great  smelters.  Its  chimney-stacks  pour 
noxious  smoke  over  a  nest  of  cabins  down  on  the  bank  of  the  creek, 
and  guide  us,  by  scent  as  well  as  sight,  through  the  streets  and  across 
the  vacant  lots.  The  broad  upper  floor  is  divided  along  one  side  into  a 
series  of  bins,  opening  outwardly  into  a  shed,  under  which  the  teams 
drive  that  bring  the  ore.  Each  owner's  lot  is  put  into  a  bin  and  kept 
separate  until  sampled  and  paid  for.  This  sampling  is  a  process  akin  to 
homeopathy.  Supposing  one  hundred  tons  are  to  be  sold  at  the  smelter. 
Every  tenth  ton,  as  fast  as  delivered,  is  set  aside  to  be  sampled.  This 
ten  tons  is  then  subdivided, — perhaps  by  being  carried  from  one  part  of 
the  floor  to  the  other  in  wheelbarrows, — every  tenth  load  being  set  aside. 
The  single  ton  thus  remaining  contains  many  large,  hard  lumps.  These 
are  roughly  screened  out  and  put  through  a  crusher,  which  chews  them 
into  fragments  no  larger  than  walnuts.  The  heap  of  a  ton  of  broken 
material  thus  formed  is  now  separated  in  a  very  ingenious  way,  by 


SAMPLING 


catching  a  few  lumps 
of  the  ore  from  each 
shovelful  in  a  'scoop,' 
which  a  man    holds 
above  the  wheelbar- 
row  wherein    the 
main  portion  is  cart- 
ed back  to  the  original  pile  in  the  bin.  The  saved 
portion,  which   has  happened  to  fall   into   the 
scoop,  constitutes  a  new  sample,  to  be  further 
reduced,  by  successive  crushings  and  screenings, 
until  finally  there  remains  only  a  pound  of  earth 
as  the  perfect  representation  of  the  average  qual- 
ity of  the  five  hundred  tons  of  rocky  ore  offered 
from  the  mine.    This  pound  is  then  ground  to 


220  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

powder  on  the  bucking  board,  and  a  tenth  or  twentieth  is  taken  for  the 
scientific  fire  -  test,  or  '  assay, '  which  shall  determine  its  value.  All 
these  processes  go  on  at  night  as  well  as  by  day. 

"  The  red-brown  ores  lay  in  little  heaps  about  the  floor  when  we 
entered,  divided  from  one  another  by  low  partitions.  Men  with  spidery 
wheelbarrows  were  cruising  about,  dumping  a  pile  of  precious  earth 
here,  shoveling  up  another  there,  with  seemingly  aimless  purposes,  and 
the  bins  were  only  like  so  many  openings  to  a  mine,  so  deep  were  the 
shadows  hiding  their  recesses.  Across  the  room,  lanterns  showed  four 
great  circular  chambers  of  iron,  from  whose  depths  hoarse  rumblings 
drowned  in  a  deep,  steady  bass  the  energetic  crunch-crunch  of  the  insa- 
tiate ore-chewers.  Wide  door- ways  admitted  into  these  dungeons,  where 
surging  volumes  of  murky  vapors  were  confined,  and  through  their  hot 
portals  red-shirted  men  hurled  the  raw  material  that  should  be  digested, 
and  the  worthy  part  of  which  should  issue  from  the  furnaces  below  in  a 
bright  and  costly  stream:  first  a  barrow  load  of  carbonate  ore,  next  one 
of  charcoal,  then  a  third  of  iron  and  limestone-flux. 

"Day  after  day,  night  after  night,  these  monsters  are  fed  with  this 
diet,  varied  in  proportions  according  to  the  richness  and  metallurgical 
qualities  of  the  ore  that  is  being  smelted.  It  requires  very  good  judg- 
ment to  determine  just  how  much  foreign  material  aud  lime  is  needed  to 
produce  the  best  results  with  the  constantly  varying  ores.  Luck  may 
find  the  silver  ore  but  science  must  extract  the  bullion.  Most  profit 
accrues  to  the  smelter  when  the  ore  produces  from  seventy-five  to  two 
hundred  ounces  of  silver,  and  contains  a  goodly  proportion  of  iron  and 
lead. 

"Leaving  the  dungeons,  we  pick  our  way  down  the  slope  of  a 
small  mountain  of  ore,  and  enter  below,  where  the  engine  and  boilers 
throb,  and  the  openings  at  the  bottom  of  the  furnaces  give  exit  to  the 
silver  and  the  slag  we  saw  shoveled  in  above  as  ore.  And  what  an  exit ! 
The  low  roof  shuts  down  close  and  dark  upon  the  huge  black  cylinder  of 
iron  and  bricks  that  holds  in  its  heart  the  molten  metal.  There  are 
pipes  and  valves,  and  draft-ways,  and  beams  and  braces,  but  they  show 
indistinct  in  the  gloom,  and  are  nothing  beside  that  great  central  mass, 
begrimed  with  soot  and  the  dust  of  arsenic  and  oxides  of  lead.  Watch 
that  workman.  He  lifts  a  lance  and  stepping  near  the  base  of  the 
furnace,  where  a  single  spark  directs  his  aim,  gives  two  or  three  quick 
thrusts.  How  mighty  an  effect  the  simple  act  evokes!  The  gloomy 
and  ghost  haunted  chamber  becomes  a  home  of  fire;  the  grim  furnace 
breathes  out  gaseous  flames  of  blue  and  green,  with  tongues  of  light 
which  hover  playfully  over  a  cataract  of  melted  red  metal  bubbling, 
spouting,  plunging  out  of  that  Plutonic  throat  and  falling  in  hissing 
streams  into  the  iron  bowl  waiting  to  catch  its  hot  flood.  The  little  lady 
who  is  with  us,  seeing  the  sparks  fly,  draws  timidty  outside  the  doorway 
and  none  too  soon,  for  without  warning  the  whole  place  becomes 


CASTING  BULLION.  221 

volcanic.  No  longer  a  steady  stream  of  artificial  lava  rolls  down  the 
iron  channel,  but  the  liquid  metal  bursts  its  bounds  and  becomes  a  foun- 
tain. The  furnace  is  hidden  in  lurid  gases  out  of  which  spring  volley 
upon  volley  of  burning  fragments  that  scatter  showers  of  fire  over  the 
whole  foreground. 

"  The  slag-pot  is  a  conical  vessel,  with  a  rounded  apex,  poised,  base 
uppermost,  on  four  little  legs;  when  it  is  full,  an  iron  frame  work  of  a 
cart  runs  up,  seizes  it  on  opposite  sides  as  though  with  two  hands,  and 
wheels  it,  glowing  and  fuming,  out  where  a  mole  of  slag  is  pushing  itself 
over  into  the  white  gravel  of  the  gulch,  and  where  it  is  deposited  red  and 
crackling  among  heaps  of  like  cones,  some  fading  into  the  ashy  hues  of 
spent  heat,  some  black  and  shining  like  inverted  crucibles  of  polished 
iron.  It  was  an  uncanny  vision:  the  huge  rough  outlines  of  the  great 
mill,  with  its  high  chimneys  and  beacons  of  flame  and  smoke;  the  blaze 
within,  the  wan  moonlight  outside,  and  the  sinewy  men  with  skeleton 
carts  leaping  about  in  the  glare  of  the  spouting  slag,  handling  shapely 
burdens  of  fiery  refuse. 

"  While  the  worthless  slag  is  doing  so  much  sputtering  and  making 
so  lively  a  show  of  itself,  the  silver  and  lead  have  quietly  sunk  to  the 
bottom  as  fast  as  the  heat  liberated  them  from  the  mass  of  the  boiling  ore, 
and  now  come  oozing  up  from  a  small  exit  far  below  the  slag-spout,  into 
a  well  at  the  side  of  the  furnace.  As  fast  as  needful,  this  liquid  '  bul- 
lion '  is  ladled  out  and  poured  into  iron  moulds,  where  it  remains  until  it 
cools  into  solid  'pigs'  or  bars  of  lead  weighing  about  fifty  pounds  each, 
and  carrying  about  two  per  cent,  of  silver.  These  pigs,  when  cool, 
are  stamped  with  the  smelter's  name  and  the  number  of  the  car-load 
to  which  they  will  belong.  Then  from  each  one  is  cut  a  fragment,  and 
these  pieces — when  the  whole  '  run '  of  the  furnace  has  been  made — are 
collected  and  re-cast  and  assayed  to  determine  the  value  and  selling-price 
of  the  bullion." 

The  foregoing  paragraphs,  culled  without  indicating  the  omissions, 
and  so,  perhaps  reading  abruptly,  it  must  be  remembered,  were  written 
in  the  early  summer  of  1879.  Yet,  to  a  great  degree,  the  picture  out- 
lined in  that  (now  old)  magazine  article  holds  good  to-day.  There 
are  many  more  people  here,  and  the  coming  of  the  Denver  and  Rio 
Grande  railway  has  brought  the  world  nearer  and  multiplied  the  means 
of  trade.  It  has  reduced  prices,  afforded  ready  transportation  out  and  in, 
civilized  the  town.  Harrison  avenue  has  become  a  metropolitan  street, 
crowded  with  fine  business  houses,  where  you  can  buy  almost  as  many 
things  as  in  Denver,  and  the  hills  in  the  outskirts  are  crowded  with 
more  mine-houses  and  riddled  with  more  tunnels  than  formerly.  But  all 
this  is  an  advance  in  degree,  not  an  addition  of  a  new  kind.  The  paving 
of  the  central  streets,  the  erection  of  large  business  buildings,  the  intro- 
duction of  public  water  and  gas,  the  police,  the  fire-patrol,  the  morning 
and  evening  papers,  the  telephone  and  what  not,  are  all  indications  of 


222  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

the  thrift  and  prosperity  of  the  people  but  render  the  city  less  charac- 
teristic and  peculiar.  The  Leadville  of  '79  in  which  we  took  a  keen 
interest  is  now  a  thing  of  the  past. 

After  dinner,  the  Madame  and  I  go  up  as  of  yore,  to  a  cottage 
we  wot  of  that  commands  a  pleasant  view,  and  sit  watching  the  night 
put  the  shading  into  the  picture.  But  I  tell  her  it  is  not  the  picture 
I  used  to  see  and  enjoy.  That  was  a  great  map  of  new,  bare  houses 
spread  out  before  us,  seemingly  without  arrangement  or  form.  The 
steady  drone  of  late  planing  mills  and  the  subdued,  eager  rasp  of  steam- 
saws  begrudging  the  approach  of  darkness,  told  how  grew  the  magic 
town  that  was  overrunning  the  plateau,  exploring  the  gulches,  and 
swarming  up  the  flanks  of  the  half-cleared  foot  hills.  It  was  a  town 
without  high  buildings  or  towers,  church-spires  or  foliage.  In  the 
clearness  with  which  every  detail  is  seen  at  a  great  distance,  the  houses 
looked  smaller  than  they  really  were.  It  was  all  rough  and  ragged,  yet 
all  the  more  picturesque. 

Slowly  the  long,  sober  twilight  deepens  in  the  valley  into  gloam- 
ing, and  sinks  thence  into  a  gloom  out  of  which,  one  by  one,  peep  the 
lights.  Still,  outlines  are  not  lost,  and  the  massive  figures  of  the  foot- 
hills thrust  themselves  hugely  through  the  veil  that  night  is  dropping, 
solid  and  blue  and  forbidding.  It  is  a  picture  of  perfect  sweetness  and 
peace, — a  poetic  picture  in  which  one  can  imagine  nothing  that  is  harsh, 
or  selfish,  or  mean.  And  overhead  the  mountains  tower,  rank  behind 
rank,  peak  crowding  peak,  the  pinnacles  vying  in  being  the  last  to  hold 
the  lingering  rays  of  the  sun,  whose  light  now  enkindles  the  heights* 
until  all  the  wide  snow  fields  burn  rosily.  Then  one  by  one  the  glit- 
tering banks  fade  into  the  softest  of  ash-tints  as  the  reluctant  sun  bows 
itself  away,  and  the  shadows  of  the  blackening  ridges  fall  athwart 
the  arctic  panorama  that  fills  the  horizon.  Keeping  pace,  the  lights 
of  the  city  increase,  shining  duskily  through  a  purple  haze  of  smoke 
and  mist.  Clearer  above  this  ethereal  stratum  of  haze,  gleam  the  jewel- 
points  that  show  where  huge  engines  are  tirelessly  at  work,  and  where 
prospectors  and  campers  have  built  their  fires  on  the  hill-sides,  and 
sit  about  them  boiling  their  coffee  and  gossiping  on  the  events  of  the  day 
and  the  prospects  of  the  morrow.  Then  the  Madame  and  I  saunter 
homeward — for  our  comfortable  cars  seem  very  homelike  to  us  these 
frosty  evenings — breathing  the  resinous  flavor  of  the  crisply  fragrant 
spruce,  and  watching  the  stars  spring  hastily  over  the  coruscant  line 
that  traces  the  serrated  crest  of  the  snowy  range. 

Leadville  at  night  is  a  scene  of  wild  hilarity,  and  yet  of  remarkable 
order.  The  omnipresent  six  shooters  that  used  to  outnumber  the  men  of 
a  mining  camp  ten  years  ago  are  rarely  seen  here  in  public.  If  men 
carry  pistols,  it  is  in  their  pockets;  and  the  shoot  the  lights  out  ruffian- 
ism of  the  old  frontier  days  rarely  shows  even  a  symptom  of  revival. 
You  find  a  city  of  twenty  thousand  people  or  so  within  the  limits  and 


224  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

up  the  sides  of  the  hills  that  overlook  the  town,  where  hundreds  of 
mine-houses,  spouting  ceaseless  jets  of  steam  from  ever-laboring  engines, 
and  hundreds  of  dumps  of  earth  and  ore  brought  to  sudden  daylight 
from  their  beds  in  the  heart  of  the  hill,  tell  the  story  of  Leadville's  pros- 
perity. The  rough  old  camp  has  crystallized  into  the  city  she  resolved 
to  become. 

As  for  these  mines — what  shall  be  said.  Frjrer  Hill,  which  was  the 
source  of  Leadville's  "  boom,"  has  gone  into  obscurity  under  the  newer 
glory  of  its  rivals,  Carbonate  and  Breece  hills.  It  is  said  that  Fryer  HiK 
proved  a  great  collection  of  "pockets,"  very  rich  so  long  as  they  lasted, 
but  liable  at  any  time  to  be  exhausted.  The  other  hills,  however,  seem 
not  to  have  suffered  the  geological  turmoil  through  which  Fryer  passed, 
and,  therefore,  when  a  deposit  of  ore  is  struck,  one  may  be  reasonably 
sure  of  its  holding  out  as  long  as  any  one  man  or  generation  of  men 
would  be  likely  to  feel  an  earthly  interest  in  its  development.  Men  now 
know  pretty  well,  or  think  they  do,  what  ones  of  the  hundreds  of  "dis- 
covery shafts  "  sunk  are  really  worth  continuing,  and  there  is  a  constant 
tendency  to  the  consolidation  of  adjacent  properties  into  the  hands  of 
large  companies  controlling  vast  capital,  and  pushing  operations  with 
quiet  dignity.  The  bullion  product  of  Leadville  increases  year  by  year, 
and  gives  an  annual  output  varying  from  $17,000,000  to  $19,000,000. 

The  yard  of  the  Denver  and  Rio  Grande  railway,  where  our  cars 
lay  for  a  whole  week,  is  a  scene  of  never  ceasing  activity.  This  is 
the  terminus  not  only  of  the  main  line  from  the  east  and  south,  but 
also  of  two  branches,  one  down  the  Blue  river  and  the  other  over  to 
the  Eagle  River  valley.  Both  have  to  -cross  the  continental  range, 
and  abound  in  scenery  so  picturesque  that,  in  the  phrase  of  the  penny- 
a-liner,  "to  be  appreciated  must  be  seen."  That  being  the  case,  we 
propose  to  "see"  it. 


XXII 

ACROSS  THE  TENNESSEE  AND  FREMONT'S  PASSES. 


*  Unto  the  towne  of  Walflngham 

'  The  way  is  hard  for  to  be  gon; 

*  And  verry  crooked  are  those  pat  lies 

4  For  you  to  find  out  all  alone.' 

— PERCY'S  RELIQUBS. 

CCORDINGr  to  the  virtuous  intention  of  the  last  para- 
graph, we  went  one  day  over  to  Red  Cliff  and  the  Eagle 
river.  The  branch  of  the  railway  which  runs  thither, 
leaves  the  main  line  at  Malta,  and  takes  in  some  very 
pretty  scenery. 

From  Malta  the  line  skirts  the  wide  hay-meadows 
between  the  village  and  the  Arkansas  river;  I  saw  men  spreading 
manure  there,  too,  and  was  told  they  had  raised  oats  successfully.  The 
whole  mouth  of  California  gulch,  here,  is  a  vast  bed  of  clean,  drifted 
gravel,  the  result  of  the  gold  hydraulic  operations  above,  the  placers 
having  been  worked  more  or  less  continuously  for  twenty  years. 

Rising  along  a  tortuous  path  cut  at  a  heavy  grade,  as  usual,  into  the 
side  hills,  we  mount  slowly  into  Tennessee  Pass,  which  feeds  the  head  of 
the  Eagle  river  on  one  side  and  one  source  of  the  Arkansas  on  the  other. 
It  is  a  comparatively  low  and  easy  pass,  covered  everywhere  with  dense 
timber,  and  a  wagon-road  has  long  been  followed  through  it.  There 
was  nothing  to  be  seen  except  an  occasional  pile  of  ties,  or  a  charcoal 
oven,  save  that  now  and  then  a  gap  in  the  hills  showed  the  gray  rough 
summits  of  Galena,  Homestake,  and  the  other  hights  that  guard  the  Holy 
Cross.  At  each  end  of  the  Pass  is  a  little  open  glade  or  "park,"  where 
settlers  have  placed  their  cabins  and  fenced  off  a  few  acres  of  level 
ground  whereon  to  cut  hay,  for  nothing  else  will  grow  at  this  great 
elevation. 

One  of  the  side-valleys,  coming  down  to  the  track  at  right  angles 
from  the  southwestward — I  think  it  is  Homestake  gulch — leads  the 
eye  up  through  a  glorious  alpine  avenue  to  where  the  cathedral  crest 
of  a  noble  peak  pierces  the  sky.  It  is  a  summit  that  would  attract  the  eye 
anywhere, — its  feet  hidden  in  verdurous  hills,  guarded  by  knightly 
crags,  half-buried  in  seething  clouds,  its  helmet  vertical,  frowning, 
plumed  with  gleaming  snow, — 

"  Ay,  every  inch  a  king." 


226  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

It  is  the  Mount  of  the  Holy  Cross,  bearing  the  sacred  symbol  in 
such  heroic  characters  as  dwarf  all  human  graving,  and  set  on  the  pin- 
nacle of  the  world  as  though  in  sign  of  possession  forever.  The  Jesuits 
went  hand  in  hand  with  the  Clievalier  Dubois,  proclaiming  Christian  gos- 
pel in  the  northern  forests;  the  Puritan  brought  his  Testament  to  New 
England,  the  Spanish  banners  of  victory  on  the  golden  shores  of  the 
Pacific  were  upheld  by  the  fiery  zeal  of  the  friars  of  San  Francisco;  the 
frozen  Alaskan  cliffs  resounded  to  the  chanting  of  the  monks  of  St. 
Peter  and  St.  Paul.  On  every  side  the  virgin  continent  was  taken  in  the 
name  of  Christ,  and  with  all  the  eclat  of  religious  conquest.  Yet  from 
ages  unnumbered  before  any  of  them,  centuries  oblivious  in  the  mystery  of 
past  time,  the  Cross  had  been  planted  here.  As  a  prophecy  during 
unmeasured  generations,  as  a  sign  of  glorious  fulfillment  during  nine- 
teen centuries,  from  always  and  to  eternity  a  reminder  of  our  fealty 
to  Heaven,  this  divine  seal  has  been  set  upon  our  proudest  eminence. 
What  matters  it  whether  we  write  "  God  "  in  the  Constitution  of  the 
United  States,  when  here  in  the  sight  of  all  men  is  inscribed  this  mar- 
velous testimony  to  his  sovereignty  !  Shining  grandly  out  of  the  pure 
ether,  and  above  all  turbulence  of  earthly  clouds,  it  says:  Humble  thy- 
self, O  man!  Measure  thy  fiery  works  at  their  true  insignificance. 
Uncover  thy  head  and  acknowledge  thy  weakness.  Forget  not,  that  as 
high  above  thy  gilded  spires  gleams  the  splendor  of  this  ever-living 
Cross,  so  are  My  thoughts  above  thy  thoughts,  and  My  ways  above 
thy  ways. 

Red  Cliff  is  a  bright,  fresh  little  camp,  made  of  sweet-smelling,  new 
lumber  just  out  of  the  sawmill;  it  looks  spruce  in  a  most  literal  sense. 
Perhaps  a  thousand  or  fifteen  hundred  persons  live  in  and  about  there, 
though  you  will  not  see  a  quarter  of  that  number  except  on  Saturday 
nights  and  Sundays.  The  hotel  where  I  stopped  was  made  of  canvas,  but 
they  gave  me  a  good  meal,  and  when  bed-time  came  took  me  off  to 
another  tent-roofed  shanty,  which  I  occupied  all  to  myself,  surrounded 
by  feminine  finery  and  knicknacks,  from  tooth-powder  and  hair-pins  to 
ruffled  skirts  and  a  sewing  stand;  however,  the  window-curtains  con- 
sisted of  two  very  "loud"  copies  of  the  Police  Gazette,  so  I  locked 
my  door  with  extra  care  for  fear  the  fair  owners  might  unexpectedly 
return. 

The  mines  in  the  neighborhood  of  Red  Cliff— if  you  saw  the 
toppling  piles  of  rust-stained  quartzite  which  hung  over  the  gulch, 
you  would  not  need  to  ask  why  the  name  was  given — are  of  varied 
character,  and  of  wide  reputation. 

Discovered  only  in  1878,  it  was  at  once  seen  that  here  in  Battle 
mountain  were  enormous  deposits  of  carbonate  of  lead  carrying  silver, 
which  was  so  free  from  any  refractory  elements,  like  zinc  or  antimony, 
and  so  abundant  in  lead,  that  they  were  unexcelled  in  the  world  for 
the  purposes  of  smelting.  It  has  always  been  a  drawback  in  the  Lead- 


228  THE   CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

ville  ores  that  they  contained  lead  in  too  small  a  proportion  to  the  silver, 
copper  and  other  constituents,  to  make  straight  smelting  feasible ;  that  is 
it  is  necessary  to  mix  into  each  charge  an  addition  of  "flux," — chiefly 
lead,  in  order  properly  to  perform  the  operation  of  smelting.  This 
Red  Cliff  ore,  however,  is  so  rich  in  lead,  frequently  running  sixty, 
seventy  or  eighty  per  cent.,  that  no  accessory  is  needful,  and  it  "  smelts 
itself,"  as  they  say.  In  consequence,  the  carbonates  of  this  district  are  in 
great  demand  at  Leadville,  and  really  bring  more  than  their  intrinsic 
value,  since  the  smelters  are  anxious  to  get  them  to  mix  with  the  more 
refractory  home  product,  and  so  get  enough  lead  in  the  charge  to  secure 
the  silver  of  both  kinds  of  ore.  Most  of  the  ores  from  this  camp,  there- 
fore, are  shipped  to  Leadville ;  and  not  only  that,  but  a  large  quantity  of 
the  bullion  made  here  is  sold  there  also  and  re-melted  in  order  to  furnish 
the  necessary  lead. 

Here,  as  well  as  further  down  the  river,  some  streaks  of  gold-quartz 
are  found,  and  a  stamp  mill  is  about  to  be  erected.  Fissure  veins  of  sil- 
ver ore  are  also  known  and  worked  somewhat,  and  much  is  expected  of 
this  branch  of  production  in  future.  But  thus  far  the  chief  reliance 
of  the  district  is  placed  upon  the  carbonate  ores  of  silver.  You  will 
find  all  the  hills  and  granite  ledges  and  quartzite  overflows  about  here 
punched  full  of  prospect-pits;  but  it  is  only  on  the  southern  slope  of  Bat- 
tle mountain  that  mines  worth  mention  have  been  developed  as  yet. 
"The  whole  interior  of  Battle  mountain,"  one  who  knew  said  to  me, 
"seems  to  be  one  bed  of  carbonate  of  lead  and  silver."  Then  he  took 
me  into  the  sheds  of  his  smelter  and  showed  me  bin  after  bin  full  of 
brick  red,  and  rust  brown  and  dark  and  bright  yellow  earth,  which  lay 
in  crumbling  pieces  like  dried  mud,  or  had  fallen  into  mere  sand,  and 
told  me  that  that  was  the  general  style  of  the  ore.  I  lifted  a  handful  and 
it  was  as  heavy  as  shot:  no  doubt  about  that  being  lead.  This  stuff 
is  almost  too  easy  to  mine;  it  is  like  digging  into  a  sand  bank,  and  every 
foot  of  the  way  must  be  carefully  protected  by  a  timber  tunnel  to 
prevent  its  caving  in.  A  mau  can  pull  down  three  or  four  tons  a  day,  to 
ship,  and  it  is  only  requisite  to  wheel  it  to  the  brow  of  the  steep  hill-side 
at  the  mouth  of  the  mine,  and  hurl  it  down  a  shute  a  thousand  feet  or  so 
to  the  railway  track  in  the  canon. 

This  canon  of  the  Eagle,  through  which  the  railway  runs,  offers 
one  of  the  keenest  pleasures  in  Colorado  to  the  lover  of  scenery,  and  one 
of  the  points  of  pilgrimage  to  the  disciple  of  trout-fishing.  The  limpid 
green  waters  of  the  pretty  river,  fed,  just  here,  by  Turkey  creek  bring- 
ing the  melted  snows  of  the  main  range,  and  by  the  Homestake  coming 
from  the  foot  of  the  Holy  Cross,  dash  with  laughter  and  gurgle  through 
a  narrow  defile  of  gayly  colored  rocks  and  thence  pour  out  to  rest  awhile 
in  the  parks  before  its  struggle  with  Elbow  Canon  down  below.  From 
here  to  the  mouth  of  the  river,  it  is  between  fifty  and  sixty  miles  accord- 
ing to  the  line  of  the  railway,  which  will,  some  day,  closely  follow  its 


ROARING  PORK  REGION.  229 

banks  down  the  Grand  to  Grand  Junction.  The  elevation  is  uniformly 
so  great,  even  after  you  get  fairly  out  of  the  mountains,  that  agriculture 
is  hopeless,  excepting  the  cultivation  of  some  of  the  hardiest  vegetables, 
like  turnips,  and  perhaps  risky  crops  of  oats  and  barley. 

At  the  mouth  of  the  Roaring  Fork  of  the  Grand  (which  is  just 
below  where  the  Eagle  debouches),  some  remarkable  mineral  springs 
bubble  out  of  the  ground.  These  have  long  been  held  in  high  esteem  by 
the  Indians  and  hunters,  and  now  a  little  settlement  has  grown  up 
around  them  called  Glenwpod.  A  hotel,  bath  houses  and  other  facilities 
for  a  pleasant  and  healthful  time  have  been  erected,  and  the  place  is 
likely  to  prove  a  favorite  summer  resort.  Many  men  are  living  and 
digging  upon  the  headwaters  of  Brush  creek,  Gypsum  creek,  and  other 
tributaries.  Just  below,  where  the  Eagle  river  discharges  itself,  the 
Grand  receives  the  Roaring  Fork  and  various  other  pretty  large  tribu- 
taries, so  that  it  becomes  a  noble  stream  by  the  time  the  great  Gunnison 
reinforces  it,  and  it  mingles  its  waters  with  the  Green  river,  which 
has  come  all  the  way  from  the  National  Yellowstone  Park,  to  make  the 
mighty  Rio  Colorado. 

Hither  will  come  the  painters,  who  need  not  go  to  Switzerland  for 
snowy  bergs,  nor  to  Scotland  for  lochs,  nor  to  Norway  for  splendid  forests 
of  pine  and  spruce.  No  mountains  I  know  of  abound  in  more  that  is 
picturesque;  but  it  is  always  some  phase  of  the  grand  rather  than  the 
pretty.  The  scenery  is  wild  and  savage  and  primeval,  being  the  stock 
of  which  beautiful  landscapes  are  made,  rather  than  the  culture  that 
gentler  airs  and  more  temperate  winds  bring  upon  the  face  of  the  earth 
nearer  the  sea  and  the  equator.  The  naturalist  also  may  come  here  with 
profit.  The  fauna  and  flora  are  boreal  and  western.  The  geologist  and 
mineralogist  and  meteorologist  will  find  much  here  to  interest  them,  and 
clear  up  doubtful  points. 

This  splendid,  hilly,  well-timbered,  well  pastured,  well-watered 
western  edge  of  the  state,  is  the  grandest  hunting-ground  in  the 
United  States,  and  it  will  be  long  before  the  bears  and  mountain  lions 
and  wild  cats;  the  wolves  and  foxes;  the  mountain-sheep,  the  elk,  the 
two  deers  and  the  antelope,  are  driven  from  its  shady  courts  and  dis- 
appear from  the  wide  and  sunny  ranges.  Long  let  us  say,  in  fond  hope, 
if  not  in  serious  expectation,  that  never  shall  the  dread  word  exterminated 
be  written  after  the  name  of  any  of  the  wild  animals  whose  utility  as 
game  or  for  beauty  of  form  makes  them  of  interest  to  us. 

Another  excursion  from  Leadville  was  out  on  the  stub  of  a  line  to  be 
extended  down  the  Blue  river  toward  Middle  Park. 

To  reach  the  valley  of  Blue  river  "the  range''  must,  of  course, 
be  crossed.  The  line  from  Leadville  follows  up  the  Arkansas  and 
reveals  to  us  how  small  are  the  beginnings  of  great  things  in  the  way  of 
watercourses;  how  a  miserable,  shallow,  wiggling  little  runlet,  which 
you  can  dam  with  a  couple  of  shovels  of  mud  and  stand  astride  of 


230  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT.      , 

like  another  Colossus  of  Rhodes,  may  push  its  way  along,  undermining 
what  it  cannot  overthrow;  sliding  around  the  obstacle  that  deemed  itself 
impassable;  losing  itself  in  willowy  bogs,  tumbling  headlong  over 
the  error  of  a  precipice  or  getting  heedlessly  entrapped  in  a  confined 
canon ;  escaping  down  a  gorge  with  indescribable  turmoil,  and  always 


CRESTED   BUTTE    MOUNTAIN    AND   LAKE. 

growing  bigger,  bigger,  broader  and  stronger,  deeper  and  more  dig- 
nitied;  till  it  can  leave  the  mountains  and  strike  boldly  across  a  thou- 
sand miles  of  untracked  plain  to  "fling  its  proud  heart  into  the  sea." 
Hark!  what  does  it  prattle  up  here  where  we  can  leap  its  ripplings,  and 
the  red  willows  tangle  their  blossoms  and  shade  it  from  side  to  side? — 

"  Clear  and  cool,  clear  and  cool. 

By  laughing  shallow  and  dreaming  pool, 
Cool  and  clear,  cool  and  clear, 

By  shining  shingle  and  foaming  weir." 

Listen  again  below,   where  it  rushes  triumphant  from  the  ada- 
mantine gates  that  sought  to  imprison  it: — 

"  Strong  and  free,  strong  and  free, 

The  flood  gates  are  open  away  to  the  sea; 
Free  and  strong,  free  and  strong, 

Claiming  my  streams  as  I  hurry  along, 
To  the  golden  sands  and  the  leaping  bar 
And  the  taintless  tide  that  awaits  me  afar." 


TWO  MILES  ABOVE  THE  SEA.  231 

Almost  in  the  very  springs  of  the  river,  where  an  amphitheatre 
of  gray  quartzite  peaks  stand  like  stiffened  silver-gray  curtains  between 
the  Atlantic  and  the  Pacific,  we  curl  round  a  perfect  shepherd's  crook  of 
a  curve,  and  then  climb  its  straight  staff  to  the  summit  of  Fremont's, — 
the  highest  railway  pass  in  the  world.  The  pathway  is  so  hidden  in 
great  woods,  and  the  grim  giants  of  the  Mosquito  range  are  still  so  inac- 
cessibly far  above  you,  even  when  you  have  reached  the  sterile  oberland, 
above  the  trees,  that  you  hardly  realize  the  fact  that  you  are  11,540  feet 
— considerably  over  two  vertical  miles — above  the  sea. 

Once  more  on  the  Pacific  slope,  with  the  crossing  of  this  range,  we 
see  the  first  trickling  of  Ten  Mile  creek,  and  enter  the  edge  of  one  of  the 
famous  mining  districts  of  the  state,  catching  a  sidelong  glimpse  of  the 
Holy  Cross  as  we  descend. 

"  Although  its  now  well  known  silver  mines,"  says  a  recent  histori- 
cal account,  "are  of  recent  date,  the  district  is  not  a  new  one,  having 
been  run  over  by  gold  hunters  in  the  '  flush  times '  of  California  gulch, 
Buckskin  Joe  and  other  famous  gold-camps  of  early  days.  Gold  was 
found  in  the  bed  of  Ten-Mile  creek,  and  in  the  connecting  gulches,  „  . 
among  them  McNulty's  gulch,  said  to  have  yielded  more  gold  in  propor- 
tion to  its  size  than  any  other  workings  in  the  state,  and  many  fine  nug- 
gets of  unusual  size  were  taken  from  it.  ...  The  discovery  in  1878, 
of  the  famous  Robinson  group  of  mines,  followed,  by  the  White  Quail 
and  Wheel  of  Fortune  discoveries,  attracted  large  numbers  of  prospectors 
to  the  new  camp,  and  in  spite  of  the  ten  feet  of  snow  that  covered  the 
ground  during  the  winter  of  1878-'79  locations  were  made,  and  shafts 
and  tunnels  begun  in  every  direction.  During  the  winter  the  town  of 
Carbonateville  was  settled,  and  for  a  time  promised  to  become  a 
thriving  camp.  On  the  8th  of  February,  the  town  of  Kokomo,  which, 
with  its  younger  rival,  Robinson,  is  now  a  prosperous  and  growing 
mining  camp,  with  two  smelters  in  operation,  was  located.  In  the 
spring  of  1880  Robinson's  camp  began  to  build  up  rapidly,  under  the 
support  of  the  great  Robinson  mines,  and  the  fostering  care  of  the  late 
Lieutenant  Governor  Robinson,  and  soon  became  a  formidable  rival  to 
Kokomo.  The  many  discoveries  made  during  the  spring  and  sum- 
mer of  1880,  brought  the  district  into  a  prominence  second  only  to 
that  of  Leadville,  and  a  large  amount  of  capital  was  invested  in  the 
development  of  its  many  promising  mines  and  prospects.  Two  smelters 
were  erected  at  Kokomo,  and  one  near  the  old  town  of  Carbonateville, 
while  extensive  works,  consisting  of  furnaces,  roasters,  etc.,  were  put  up 
at  Robinson  to  work  the  ores  of  the  Robinson  mine.  A  railroad  to  con- 
nect the  district  with  Leadville  on  the  south  and  Georgetown  on  the  east, 
was  projected,  and  partially  graded  during  the  summer,  but  was  finally 
absorbed  by  the  enterprising  managers  of  the  Denver  and  Rio  Grande 
Company,  who,  with  a  watchful  eye  for  the  future,  began  the  construc- 
tion, under  the  name  of  Blue  River  extension  of  the  Denver  and  Rio 


232  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

Grande,  of  a  road,  which  in  spite  of  the 
many  and  great  difficulties  encount- 
ered, was  completed  to    Robinson 
on    the    1st    of    January,    1881. 
Much  of  the  grading  and  most 
of  the  track-laying  were  done 
under  a  heavy  fall  of  snow, 
the    range    being    crossed    in 
midwinter,  affording  a  striking 
instance  of  the  energy  and  con- 
tempt of  obstacles  characteristic 
of  Western  railroad  builders." 

The  Robinson  mines  alluded  to, 
now  abandoned  so  far  as  productive 
work    is    concerned,    and    generally    con- 
sidered a  failure,   were  called  the  best  mining 
property  in  the  state  only  a  year  ago.     They  were 
discovered  in  1878,  the  ore  proving  to  be  chiefly 
galena  and  iron,  with   large  pockets  of  rich  oxi- 
RUBY  FALLS  dized  ore, — the   "  mud  carbonates  "   so  called.     A 

year  later  this  mine  passed  into  the  possession  of 
a  stock  company,  headed  by  the  late  Lieut.  Governor  George  B.  Robin- 
son, with  a  capital  of  $10,000,000.  Extensive  and  thoroughly  con- 
structed tunnels,  etc.,  were  begun,  which  were  soon  interrupted  by 
litigations  out  of  which  grew  a  small  war.  In  the  course  of  this  Gov- 
ernor Robinson  was  accidentally  shot  by  a  guard,  in  November  of  1880. 
These  troubles  settled,  ore  began  to  be  produced  in  large  quantities 
until  the  winter  of  1882,  when  work  suddenly  ceased,  the  stock  of  the 
company  fell  to  nothing,  and  the  report  was  given  out  that  the  mine 
was  a  failure. 

Moving  on  down  the  pleasant  valley,  whose  level  bottom  is  carbon- 
ate tinted,  not  with  ore  dust,  but  with  an  almost  continuous  thicket 
of  stunted  red  willows,  we  pass  the  Chalk  Mountain  mines,  the  Car- 
bonate Hill  district,  Clinton  gulch,  where  gold  ore  is  alleged  to  be 
worth  more  attention  than  it  is  receiving,  and  so  come  to  Elk  mountain 
and  Kokomo,  a  locality  which  has  had  a  wonderful  history.  In  the  fall 
of  1880  she  had  only  the  "  White  Quail "  mine  as  a  steady  producer.  A 
little  later  the  "Aftermath"  group  came  to  the  front.  Now  probably 
not  less  than  fifteen  distinct  mining  claims  on  Elk  mountain  are  making 
a  steady  output  of  ore.  This  ore  is  a  hard  carbonate,  running  about 
twenty-five  ounces  in  silver  and  twenty-five  per  cent,  in  lead,  besides  a 
third  of  an  ounce  in  gold,  which  is  carefully  separated  at  the  smelter. 
Much  of  it  is  so  admirably  constituted  that  it  "  smelts  itself,"— that 
is,  it  requires  little  or  no  addition  of  lead,  iron  and  other  accessories 
to  its  proper  fluxion. 


"AT  HOME"  IN  PONCHO  SPRINGS.  233 

We  were  told  of  alluring  pictures  of  mountains  and  canons  below 
Kokomo;  of  timber-belts  and  pleasant  uplands;  of  green  meadows  and 
sparkling  streams  beloved  of  trout  and  bass,  and  the  drinking  places 
of  deer  in  the  twilight.  But  our  plan  would  not  permit  us  to  go  on 
to  Dillon,  the  present  terminus,  much  less  beyond  it.  Instead,  we  must 
turn  back,  make  a  swift  run  down  the  Arkansas,  and  begin  our  explora- 
tion of  the  great  overland  route  to  Utah  and  the  Pacific  coast. 

I  will  not  detain  you  with  the  account  of  our  downward  trip,  but 
ask  you  to  suppose  us,  a  few  hours  after  our  visit  at  Robinson  and 
Kokomo,  snugly  "at  home"  in  the  station  in  Poncho  Springs,  half 
a  dozen  miles  west  of  Salida. 


10* 


XXIII 
FROM  PONCHO  SPRINGS  TO  VILLA  GROVE. 


Strength  to  the  weary, 

Warmth  to  the  cold, 
Blood  to  the  wasted, 

Youth  to  the  old: 
Ah,  and  the  rapture 
Thousand-fold  dearer. 

Ne'er  to  be  told: 
Learn  ye  the  secret, — 

Taste  ye  the  sweetness. 


HE  visitor  to  Poncho  Springs  is  pretty  sure  to  get  into 
hot  water,  and,  strange  to  say,  the  visitor  is  pretty  sure 
to  like  it.  There  are  several  reasons  for  this  peculiarity, 
and  among  the  most  important  is  this,  that  like  the 
wind  to  the  shorn  lamb,  the  water  is  tempered.  It 
needs  to  be  tempered,  indeed,  for  when  one  literally 
gets  into  hot  water,  one  does  not  like  to  have  its  warmth  so  emphatic  as 
to  make  a  veal  stew  of  the  first  leg  that  is  thrust  into  it.  Hot  springs 
whose  temperature  makes  any  well  regulated  thermometer's  blood  boil 
and  sends  the  mercury  up  to  180°  in  the  shade  certainly  needs  temper- 
ing. When  properly  moderated,  however,  one  cannot  fail  to  enjoy  a 
bath  in  the  soda  impregnated  waters  of  the  Poncho  springs. 

The  village,  to  which  the  springs  have  given  their  name,  is  snugly 
tucked  away  in  a  niche  in  the  Arkansas  valley,  at  the  mouth  of  Poncho 
pass.  The  waters  of  the  south  fork  of  the  Arkansas  river,  clear  as 
crystal,  and  flowing  with  a  foam-flecked  current,  race  rapidly  past  the 
town.  Along  the  river's  course  the  cottonwoods  crowd,  and  to  their 
branches,  beginning  to  grow  bare,  still  cling  a  few  trembling  yellow 
leaves.  Beyond  the  river  and  to  the  south  and  west  rise  the  hills,  their 
sides  and  summits  covered  with  dark  phalanxes  of  pines.  Turning 
one's  back  upon  the  town  and  looking  toward  the  north  and  west,  one 
sees  the  snow-crowned  summit  of  the  Collegiate  range,  with  all  the 
differences  between  Princeton  and  Harvard  and  Yale  entirely  eliminated 
by  that  distance  which  ever  adds  enchantment  to  the  view.  Closer  at 
hand,  and  towering  grandly  into  the  sky,  a  tremendous  watch-tower  in 
the  west,  stands  Shavano,  while  lesser  peaks  and  nameless  pinnacles 
cluster  and  crowd  around.  Great  plains,  broken  by  buttes,  stretch 
away  to  the  northward,  but  mountains  and  foothills  circle  round  to  the 
east  and  south  and  west. 

834 


236  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

In  this  sheltered  nook  lies  the  picturesque  village  of  Poncho 
Springs,  and  hither  do  the  invalids  and  tourists  flock  during  the  warm 
half  of  the  year  to  drink  the  medicinal  waters  and  to  bathe  in  the  healing 
springs.  I  strolled  through  the  main  street  of  the  town,  along  which 
are  built  substantial  frame  shops  and  hotels,  and  observed  evidences  of 
stability  upon  every  side.  Poncho  Springs  is  not  the  result  of  a  tempo- 
rary craze,  nor  is  it  a  railway  terminus  town  to  be  torn  down  and 
shipped  forward  as  the  road  advances.  There  is  a  good  agricultural 
country  around  the  village,  and  the  Springs  will  be  a  source  of  perma- 
nent prosperity.  One  of  the  most  picturesque  features  of  this  pictu- 
resque town  is  a  residence  which  my  traveling  companions  called  "a 
symphony  in  logs."  The  house  is  to  the  right  of  the  main  street  and  is 
built  of  hewn  logs,  and  with  gables  filled  in  with  ornamental  work,  with 
painted  roof  and  fanciful  porticos,  presents  a  peculiarly  pleasing 
appearance. 

Passing  on  through  the  town  toward  the  hills  and  crossing  the 
river,  one  discovers  a  sign  board,  upon  which  it  is  announced  that  the 
distance  to  the  hot  springe  is  three-quarters  of  a  mile.  Putting  confi- 
dence in  this  announcement,  the  visitor  cheerfully  advances  along  a 
good  wagon  road,  which  soon  begins  to  twine  and  twist  among  the  hills, 
at  times  making  a  grade  of  thirty  degrees.  Finally,  just  as  one  begins 
to  lose  faith  in  the  guide  board,  the  trail,  with  an  abrupt  turn  to  the 
right,  descends  into  a  gulch,  and  rises  steeply  on  the  other  side.  Clam- 
bering up  this  steep,  the  visitor  sees  to  the  left  the  hotel  buildings,  which 
announce  the  presence  of  the  springs,  while  to  the  right  are  pitched  a 
number  of  tents,  late  sleeping  rooms  for  an  army  of  summer  visitors 
which,  vanquished  by  cold  breezes,  has  broken  camp  and  fled. 

After  a  bath  in  the  conventional  zinc  contrivance,  to  which  was 
admitted  hot  and  cold  water  through  most  unpoetic  and  sternly  prac- 
tical faucets,  all  of  which  suggested  "modern  improvements"  rather 
than  a  wonderful  natural  phenomenon,  I  went  out  in  search  of  the  hot 
springs,  quite  as  much  to  re-establish  a  somewhat  shaken  faith  in  their 
existence  as  for  any  other  purpose.  My  doubts  soon  dissolved,  for  back 
of  the  hotel  and  halfway  up  the  grade  of  a  steep  hill,  I  came  upon  a 
little  rivulet  of  soda  water  still  steaming  with  the  heat  of  its  parent 
spring.  A  little  further  on  I  saw  a  white  tumulus  of  volcanic  formation, 
and  scattered  over  its  summit  oval  openings  in  which  boiled  and 
bubbled  water  fresh  from  Pluto's  kitchen.  In  some  of  these  springs  the 
water  was  scalding  hot,  while  in  others  it  was  merely  lukewarm. 
Springs  showing  such  radical  differences  of  temperature  were  frequently 
not  more  than  two  feet  apart.  There  are  over  fifty  of  these  springs  here, 
and  no  two  of  them  precisely  alike. 

The  Springs  have  lately  passed  from  their  former  ownership  into 
the  hands  of  new  men,  who  are  very  enterprising.  Larger  buildings 
have  been  erected,  and  the  camp-like  freedom  of  the  place  has  been 


CONCERNING  THE  COOK.  237 

exchanged  for  something  more  nearly  approaching  ordinary  hotel  life. 
There  is  room  for  about  150  guests,  and  every  requirement  for  the  com- 
fort of  invalids.  The  advertisements  issued  by  the  proprietors  dwell 
largely  upon  the  similarity  of  these  waters  to  those  of  the  Arkansas  Hot 
Springs,  and  recommend  them  as  equally  curative  in  the  special  ail- 
ments that  have  long  made  the  Arkansas  waters  famous. 

A  few  miles  northward  of  Poncho  Springs  there  is  a  cluster  of 
mining  villages,  of  which  the  chief  are  Maysville  and  Monarch.  They 
lie  well  under  the  shadow  of  the  mountains,  and  silver  ore  is  produced 
steadily  in  considerable  quantity.  These  towns  communicate  with  the 
outside  world  by  a  branch  line  of  railway  which  diverges  at  this  point. 

In  the  quiet  of  the  evening,  at  this  charming  retreat — for  we  had 
few  pleasanter  halting  places — the  Madame  bethought  herself  (seeing 
the  rest  of  us  pen  and  pencil  in  hand)  that  she  owed  a  letter  to  her 
Eastern  confidante,  and  also  remembered  that  she  had  promised  her  an 
account  of  our  youthful  chef,  with  whom  by  this  time  we  all  felt  toler- 
ably well  acquainted.  Happy  accident  brought  this  letter  under  my 
eye  and  I  seized  the  opportunity  to  copy  it,  so  here  it  is,  or  at  least  so 
much  of  it  as  relates  to  the  boy 
"My  DEAR  MRS.  Me  ANGLE: 

"I  must  tell  you  about  our  cook;  or,  as  my  husband  would,  no 
doubt  correct  me,  OUT  porter.  How  our  first  boy  fought  and  bled  and 
died  I  wrote  you  before,  and  that  the  last  I  saw  of  him  he  was  being 
bundled  rheumatically  aboard  the  homeward  train.  Well,  after  I  had 
finished  that  visit  at  Pueblo  San  Juan  with  old  Santiago's  wife,  whom  I 
described  to  you,  I  went  home — that  is,  you  know,  back  to  our  train — 
just  at  evening.  As  I  opened  the  door  a  bright-faced  boy  rose  to  meet 
me,  with  a  pair  of  the  most  beautiful  eyes  I  have  ever  seen, — just  the 
kind  of  orbs  young  ladies  waste  oceans  of  sentiment  upon,  you  know,  in 
boarding-school  days.  He  was,  so  he  told  me,  a  mixture  of  Kentuckian 
and  Canadian  Indian  blood.  His  grandmother,  the  only  one  of  his 
family  to  whom  he  seemed  to  feel  any  allegiance,  had  set  him  up  in 
business  as  a  liquor  seller.  'But,'  he  said,  '  the  business  was  too  rough 
for  me,  so  I  gave  it  up  to  a  friend  and  came  out  West.' 

"  He  proved  the  direct  opposite  of  his  predecessor.  While  Edward 
could  cook,  Burt  could  not ;  and  while  Edward  had  an  abhorrence  of 
water,  Burt  was  never  so  happy  as  when  his  pots,  pans  and  kettles  were 
all  before  him  and  he  was  busy  scouring.  The  only  difficulty  was,  that 
he  could  not  keep  clean,  but  was  for  ever  'clarin'  up,'  during  which 
process  it  required  considerable  ingenuity  to  make  one's  way  through 
the  ddbris  of  the  kitchen  furniture. 

"  It  was  not  long  before  the  inside  of  his  car  was  covered  with  tin- 
ware of  all  descriptions,  pails,  smoothing  irons,  pokers,  tools, — every- 
tnmg  that  could  by  any  possibility  be  hung  up.  He  had  a  passion  for 


238  THE  GRE8T  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

driving  nails,  the  larger  the  more  fun  apparently,  for  his  nails  mostly 
went  clear  through  the  car-walls,  which  soon  came  to  bristle  like  a 
newly  furnished  pin-cushion. 

"With  an  eye  to  our  future  interests  in  all  possible  contingencies, 
Burt  laid  hold  of  anything  along  the  road  that  he  thought  might  be  of 
use  to  us,  entirely  ignoring  any  proprietary  rights  which  others  might 
think  they  had  in  the  object  'smoudged,'  as  he  expressed  it.  In  this  way 
we  gradually  became  possessed  of  an  endless  quantity  of  odds  and  ends, 
which  it  required  a  decided  exercise  of  authority  to  get  rid  of. 

"  In  traveling,  he  was  nearly  always  to  be  seen  on  the  top  of  the  car, 
for  he  had  an  appreciative  eye  for  scenery, — so  much  so,  indeed,  as 
sometimes  to  interfere  with  his  duties.  His  great  fault  was  procrastina- 
tion 

"When  we  reached  Durango  he  became  very  greatly  depressed,  and 
on  my  inquiring  the  reason  for  his  melancholy,  he  attributes  it  to  the 
dullness  of  the  place;  'for,  ma'am,  there  is  no  excitement, — no  one  has 
been  killed  for  two  weeks  Not  at  all  what  I  was  led  to  expect.'  On 
reaching  Leadville,  he  became  much  more  cheerful,  as  he  had  only  been 
in  the  city  six  hours  before  seeing  two  fights  and  half  of  another 

"  His  gait  was  something  peculiar.  It  can  best  be  described  by  the 
ditty  we  used  to  sing,  my  dear,  which  commemorates  so  touchingly  the 
character  and  adventures  of  Susanna  in  her  excursions  abroad, — 

'When  she  walks  she  lifts  her  foot, 
And  then  she  puts  it  down  again.' 

"Long,  lank,  dark-skinned,  dressed  in  flapping  coat  and  immensely 
broad  and  excessively  slouched  sombrero  until  my  husband  bought  him 
a  cap),  with  his  loping  walk  and  swinging  elbows,  he  was  easily  recog- 
nized at  a  long  distance ;  and  as  he  would  come  sailing  down  upon  us 
from  afar,  with  arms  full  of  bundles,  he  reminded  one  a  little  of  some 
huge  bird  of  prey. 

"He  had  a  wholesome  fear  of  rattlesnakes  and  grizzly  bears  which 
the  wicked  men  of  the  fort  maliciously  represented  to  him,  abounded  in 
terrible  numbers,  and  of  the  most  ferocious  kind  wherever  we  went. 
'No,  ma'am,' he  said,  in  his  slow,  stately  way,  when  I  cautioned  him 
one  day  about  trying  to  shoot  a  bear  if  he  happened  to  meet  one,  as 
they  were  hard  to  kill  and  especially  dangerous  if  wounded,  '  No, 
ma'am ;  if  I  meet  a  bear  you  just  bet  I  don't  stay  to  take  his  portrait, 
but  shin  up  the  first  tree  I  come  lo.' 

"He  was  continually  developing  new  accomplishments.  We 
learned,  after  a  few  weeks,  that  we  had  not  'prospected'  him  thor- 
oughly at  the  beginning.  He  proved  to  have  had  more  experience  than 
his  youthful  looks  and  aimlessness  of  motive  lead  us  to  expect.  We  had 
little  occasion  to  call  into  use  whatever  knowledge  he  had  acquired  as  a 
bar-keeper,  because  the  education  of  the  gentlemen  of  the  party  had  not 
been  neglected  in  that  direction, — wholly  in  an  amateur  way,  and  they 


VILLA   GROVE  AND  BONANZA.  239 

were  accustomed,  while  '  concocting  elaborately  commingled  potations,' 
(as  they  grandiloquently  termed  mixed  drinks)  to  say  to  one  another: 
'  If  you  would  have  anything  well  done  do  it  yourself.' 

"One  day,  however,  great  delight  was  caused  by  the  discovery  that 
Burt  was  a  barber.  His  services  were  at  once  required,  and  when,  al 
the  end  of  long  labors,  he  was  munificently  offered  two  nickels,  he 
declined  them.  This  noble  independence  aroused  '  Chum's '  admiration. 
He  said  that  he  was  glad  to  see  that  the  boy  was  free  from  the  merce- 
nary spirit  so  painful  to  witness  in  the  young. 

"Our  porter  seemed  to  consider  the  whole  expedition  a  huge  joke, 
and  ourselves  a  show  arranged  for  his  especial  benefit.  If — as  it  fre- 
quently happened,  for  a  more  thoroughly  heedless  and  forgetful  youth 
never  existed — we  were  obliged  to  expostulate  with  him  on  some  neglect 
of  duty,  a  seriousness  of  countenance  would  remain  with  him  for  some 
time,  but  the  first  joke  that  came  to  his  ears  dispelled  it.  Sullen,  he 
never  was,  or  ill  natured;  and  if  any  real  emergency  occurred,  more 
willing  and  unselfish  help  could  not  have  been  tendered  by  a  firm  friend 
than  was  tendered  by  this  servant.  I  repent  me,  indeed,  Mrs.  McAngle, 
of  having  made  fun  of  him,  even  in  the  privacy  of  a  letter  to  you.  The 
odor  of  the  steaks  that  he  cooked  still  lingers  in  my  grateful  nostrils;  I 
remember  that  without  him,  material  for  many  jokes  would  have  been 
wanting,  and  I  look  on  his  fast  vanishing,  but  always  picturesque  figure, 
with  regret." 

Standing  here  at  the  very  foot  of  the  mountains  that  hid  the 
enchanting  netherland  of  "the  Gunnison,"  we  were  eager  to  hurry  on  to 
the  Pacific  slope  of  the  State;  but  one  litt*3  side  trip  remained  to  be 
made,  and  on  the  second  morning  we  coupled  our  cars  to  the  express 
bound  for  Villa  Grove  and  Bonanza.  The  course  lay  up  Poncho  Pass, 
and  in  five  minutes  the  noisy  locomotives  announced  that  the  ascent  had 
begun. 

It  was  very  pretty,  as,  indeed,  we  had  suspected  during  our  walk 
the  day  before  up  to  the  hot  springs,  which  stand  near  its  entrance.  The 
track  is  dug  out  of  the  side-hill  on  the  northern  side  of  the  gulch,  and  a 
bright  stream  comes  tumbling  down  through  willows,  cottonwoods,  oak 
shrubs,  wild  cherry  thickets  and  bushes  of  service-berry  whose  crimson 
fruit  tempts  you  to  leap  off  the  train  and  taste  its  tart  and  fragrant 
juices.  The  slopes  on  both  sides  are  covered  with  evergreens  and 
aspens 

*'  That  twinkle  to  the  gusty  breeze." 

Up  through  a  rift  in  the  trees  we  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  little  watering- 
place,  and  a  few  miles  farther,  pass  the  log-buildings  of  the  old  Toll 
Gate,  occupying  a  pocket  in  the  hills.  Only  now  are  the  gray  carpeted 
plains  of  the  Arkansas,  the  village  at  the  mouth  of  the  canon,  and  the 
rough  high  hills,  away  beyond  the  river  lost  to  view.  At  the  head  of 


240  THE  CHEST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

Poncho  Pass  is  Mears'  Station.  It  occupies  a  narrow  defile,  the  walls 
rising  steeply  to  unseen  heights,  and  the  gorges  dropping  apparently  to 
unfathomable  depths.  We  could  not  trace  the  devious  course  we  had 
come,  nor  understand  how  it  was  possible  the  railway  should  surmount 
the  stupendous  barrier  lying  to  the  westward.  Yet  we  knew  that  a  day 
or  two  later  our  cars  would  roll  steadily  to  the  summit  and  steadily 
descend  on  the  other  side,  for  this  little  nook,  the  head  of  Poncho,  is 
only  the  foot  of  Marshall  Pass,  by  which  the  oceanic  divide  is  crossed 
on  the  transcontinental  route.  Nor  was  it  easier  to  see  how  we  were  to 
get  away  down  the  precipitous  defiles  in  which  the  southern  slope  of 
Poncho  Pass  seemed  to  lose  itself.  It  was  with  strongly  excited  curi- 
osity, then,  that  we  detached  from  the  express  and  caused  our  cars  to 
be  coupled  to  the  freight  train,  which  the  bulletin  averred  knew  how  to 
go  down  to  Villa  Grove,  and  would  one  day  carry  the  traveller  through 
to  Saguache  and  the  South. 

When  all  was  ready  to  make  good  this  promise, — and  if  that  miser- 
ably memorable  engineer  had  thrust  his  shock  of  hair  and  bullet-head  a 
trifle  further  out  of  the  cab-window  the  company  might  have  dispensed 
with  the  headlight— took  the  back  track  for  a  few  rods,  trended  away  on 
a  curved  side-track  to  the  right  as  far  as  the  hillside  would  admit, 
crossed  the  main  line  on  a  bridge,  and  having  by  this  time  accomplished 
a  half  circle,  headed  eastward  again  and  began  to  climb  the  southern 
side  of  the  gulch  in  a  line  so  parallel  with  the  lower  track  that  a  mile 
later  you  could  fling  down  a  stone  from  one  to  the  other  though  you 
were  a  couple  of  hundred  feet  above.  Half  a  mile  more  and  the  summit 
is  reached, — a  green  saddle  between  the  foothills  of  Mount  Ouray  on 
one  side  and  the  far-bracec.  buttresses  of  Hunt's  peak  on  the  other.  The 
going  down  is  fairly  straight  and  easy  work,  and  it  is  not  long  before 
the  gulches  widen  out,  the  diminished,  grassy  hills  are  left  behind,  and 
your  speed  increases  as  you  strike  the  firmly  bedded,  regular  track, 
pointing  southward  through  a  broad,  treeless  plain. 

Perhaps  I  have  said  enough  of  the  wonderful  beauty  of  the  Sangre 
de  Cristo  range,  seen  from  this  side;  have  too  often  told  of  their  compact 
array  and  unbroken  grandeur;  of  the  scores  of  nameless  peaks  that 
vie  with  Hunt's,  Rito  Alto,  Electric,  the  gothic  Crestones  and  the  group 
of  pinnacled,  sun-gilded  summits  that  crowd  near  far-away  Blanca;  but 
in  the  broad  morning  light  of  this  clay's  trip  they  stood  up  in  freshened 
color  and  renewed  majesty.  All  the  cloud-curtains  were  rolled  up,  aud 
heaven  shed  unhindered  its  clear,  sharp  sunbeams  from  end  to  end  of  the 
magnificent  chain.  The  souvenirs  of  yesterday's  storm  added  decora- 
tion, for  the  summits  were  all  dusted  and  powdered,  with  light  snow, 
like  noble  heads  of  the  old  regime;  and  this  unwonted  covering 
descended  far  enough  below  timber-line  to  frost  the  upper  lines  of  trees, 
so  that  there  was  a  soft  gradation  from  the  deep  verdancy  of  the  lower 
slopes,  through  hoary  greenish-gray  to  the  unbroken  white  of  the  clear- 


BLACK   CAffoN   OF   THE    GUNNISON. 


242  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

cut  gables  lifted  into  the  serene  and  absolute  solitude  of  the  caerulean 
dome. 

Down  between  the  sharp  edged  spurs  come  numerous  streams,  water- 
ing little  spaces  where  ranchmen  had  placed  their  cabins  and  fenced  in 
their  fields.  Large  areas  now  given  up  to  the  badgers  and  sage-brush, 
can  be  brought  under  irrigation,  when  the  more  favorable  lower  parts  of 
the  valley  have  been  utilized.  A  broad  road  runs  down  here, — the  old 
wagon  road  from  Leadville  and  the  Arkansas  valley  to  Saguache,  Del 
Norte,  the  San  Juan  region  and  New  Mexico. 

The  same  words  apply  to  the  more  broken  western  side  of  the 
valley,  here  called  Roman's  Park,  though  it  is  only  the  upper  end  of  the 
San  Luis  valley ;  and,  in  addition,  those  western  hills  are  full  of  pros- 
pectors, and  of  places  where  prospecting  for  silver  and  gold  has  met 
with  success.  This  is  the  celebrated  Kerber  Creek  district,  and  Bo- 
nanza, Exchequer,  Sedgwick  and  other  little  centers  of  human  interest, 
lie  back  of  those  rugged,  green  hills  over  which  the  angular  heads  of 
Exchequer  and  Ouray  mountains  stand  in  high-chieftainship. 

Of  all  these,  Bonanza  is  the  largest.  The  ores,  however,  are  char- 
acterized by  being  of  a  low  grade,  but  great  volume,  and  by  containing 
refractory  elements,  with  a  small  percentage  of  lead,  so  that  the  large 
smelter  at  Bonanza  has  been  compelled  to  cease  running  until  it  could 
provide  itself  with  a  more  adequate  outfit  of  fluxes,  etc. 

Villa  Grove — a  pleasant  little  village  on  San  Luis  creek,  which 
drains  the  upper  part  of  the  park — is  the  railway  point  for  all  these 
mines  and  several  other  settlements  not  yet  mentioned.  Looking  south- 
east from  the  station  you  can  see  where  the  track  runs  up  into  the  foot- 
hills of  the  Sangre  de  Cristo  to  one  of  the  great  iron  mines  of  the 
Colorado  Coal  and  Iron  company,  whence  large  shipments  are  being 
made  daily.  Though  of  great  importance  and  value,  the  seeing  of  this 
mine  amounts  to  little,  since  it  is  hardly  more  than  an  open  quarry. 

From  Villa  Grove  stages  leave  daily  for  Bonanza,  Saguache  and  half 
a  dozen  other  places,  such  as  Crestone  and  Oriental, — little  mining 
camps  in  the  foothills.  The  roads  are  so  smooth  and  level  everywhere 
that;  the  great  six-horse  Concords  are  unnecessary  and  spring  wagons 
are  used. 


XXIV 
THEOUGH  MARSHALL  PASS. 


Then  felt  I  like  some  watcher  of  the  skies 
When  a  new  planet  swims  into  his  ken; 

Or  like  stout  Cortes,  when  with  eagle  eyes 
He  stared  at  the  Pacific— and  all  his  men 

Looked  at  each  other  with  a  wild  surmise- 
Silent  upon  a  peak  in  Darien. 


-KEATS. 


NE  of  the  wonders  of  Colorado  progress  is  the  Gunnison 
valley.  The  "  Gunnison,"  as  it  is  usually  termed, 
embraces  a  wide  area,  being,  in  popular  parlance, 
everything  in  Colorado  west  of  the  Continental  Divide, 
north  of  the  San  Juan  mountains  and  south  of  the 
Eagle  River  district.  In  fact,  this  is  correct  enough, 
for  nearly  all  this  great  region  is  tributary  in  its  drainage  to  the  Gun- 
nison river,— the  third  great  stream  which  unites  with  the  Grand  and 
the  Green  to  form  the  Rio  Colorado.  The  water-shed  between  it  and 
the  Rio  San  Juan,  the  only  other  feeder  of  the  Rio  Colorado  worthy  of 
mention,  is  the  very  high  and  wintry  ridge  of  the  San  Juan  mountains, 
crossing  which  you  find  yourself  in  Baker's  Park  and  the  region  we 
had  just  come  from.  Betwixt  the  head  of  its  northern  branches  and  the 
springs  that  feed  the  Grand  River  basin,  stand  the  Elk  mountains  and 
the  high  table  lauds  of  the  Grand  Mesa.  From  the  one  water-shed  to  the 
other  it  is  about  fifty  miles. 

Ten  years  ago  this  region  had  hardly  a  wanderer  in  it  from  one 
season's  end  to  the  other,  and  was  full  of  Ute  Indians.  There  were  two 
or  three  agencies,  and  roads  leading  thereto,  but  it  was  all  a  reservation. 
Everything  civilized  that  entered  the  district  came  up  from  Saguache 
through  Cochetopa  Pass  and  along  Cochetopa  creek  into  the  Uncom- 
pahgre  valley,  where  the  Utes  spent  their  winters.  There  was  also  a 
trail,  occasionally  traveled  by  sportsmen  and  explorers,  leading  south- 
ward from  the  Los  Pinos  agency  to  the  headwaters  of  the  Rio  Grande 
and  on  over  Cunningham  Pass  into  Baker's  Park.  I  marched  over  it  in 
1874,  and  a  cruel  march  it  was,  though  full  of  picturesque  interest.  An 
Indian  trail  northward  to  White  river  was  about  the  only  other  internal 
pathway.  The  region,  therefore,  was  a  terra  incognita  to  Coloradoans, 
as  well  as  to  the  rest  of  the  civilized  world. 

But  this  mystery  was  soou  to  be  cleared  away.    The  search  for  gold 

243 


244  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

and  silver,  which  has  led  to  more  exploration  of  unknown  regions  than 
all  the  geographical  societies  of  the  world  put  together,  did  not  hesitate 
to  encounter  the  darkness  that  overspread  the  Pacific  slope  of  the  State, 
and  to  go  prospecting  thither  as  soon  as  ever  a  hope  of  finding  "min- 
eral "  entered  into  the  miner's  heart.  Close  following  upon  the  rush  to 
Leadville,  was  repeated  the  history  of  the  Pike's  Peak  sequel.  Now,  as 
then,  men  disappointed  in  not  finding  mines  of  fabulous  wealth,  during 
the  first  week  of  their  stay,  or  shrewdly  thinking  to  anticipate  the 
crowd,  began  to  walk  further  and  further  afield  in  search  of  new  argen- 
tiferous rocks,  so  that  by  the  summer  of  1879  we  began  to  hear  not  only 
of  Ten  Mile  and  Red  Cliff,  but  of  the  Gunnison,  as  a  district  where 
success  had  met  the  prospector.  That  was  only  a  little  over  four  years 
ago.  Now  how  well  are  we  acquainted  with  this  erst  mysterious  and 
Indian-haunted  valley!  Four  years  ago  a  mule  was  the  best  mode  of 
conveyance  hither,  and  an  Indian  trail  almost  the  only  pathway.  Yes- 
terday 1  rode  into  the  heart  of  it  in  a  parlor  car,  and  found,  ready  for 
my  perusal,  the  morning  newspaper,  with  a  day's  history  of  all  the 
world,  from  Chicago  to  Cathay. 

The  Gunnison  country  boasts  several  towns  of  considerable  size, 
some  of  them  the  center  of  a  circle  of  mines  which  radiates  from  them, 
and  from  which  they  absorb  cash  and  conviviality.  First  in  size  is 
Gunnison  City;  and  after  it  in  importance  are  Crested  Butte,  Lake  City, 
Ouray,  Montrose,  Delta  and  Grand  Junction, — the  last  three  being  situ- 
ated in  the  old  Ute  reservation  in  western  Gunnison.  Of  less  size,  but 
yet  centers  of  population,  are  a  large  number  of  small  mining  towns  or 
"camps,"  such  as  Ruby,  Crooksville,  White  Pine,  Pitkin,  Irwin,  Bar- 
num  and  Ohio.  Each  of  these  would  require  some  attention  from  a 
faithful  chronicler  of  the  county,  for  they  are  all  in  Gunnison,  where 
the  territory  is  large  enough  to  enable  oce  to  set  in  it  the  whole  State  of 
Massachusetts  without  crowding — that  is  if  you  lopped  off  Cape  Cod  or 
curled  it  up  into  Marshall  Pass. 

It  is  by  the  way  of  Marshall  Pass  that  the  railway  enters  the  Gun- 
nison. Leaving  the  main  line  and  the  Arkansas  valley  at  Salida,  only 
five  miles  are  traversed  before  the  train  begins  to  enter  Poncho  Pass 
and  climb  the  mountains,  which  it  requires  four  hours,  express  speed, 
to  cross, — four  hours  of  uninterrupted  pleasure. 

Of  Poncho's  prettiness  I  have  already  spoken.  Its  summit  is  found 
at  Mears'  Station,  and  then  begins  the  real  ascent  of  the  Continental 
Divide.  In  a  few  moments  the  circling  rim  of  the  pit-like  valley  is  sur- 
mounted, and  Hunt's  peak,  by  its  cap  of  snow  signifying  its  superiority 
to  the  giants  of  the  Sangre  de  Cristo  about  it,  rises  like  a  planet  over 
the  hills  we  are  leaving  behind.  We  seat  ourselves  on  the  rear  platform 
aad  watch  it  until  the  whole  range,  of  which  it  is  the  northernmost 
officer,  stands  drawn  up  in  purple  line  before  us,  and  we  can  trace  the 


ASCENDING  THE  CONTINENTAL  DIVIDE.  245 

summits,  pressed  back  into  straight  line,  for  perhaps  sixty  miles  to  the 
southward — 

" Sierras  long, 

In  archipelagoes  of  mountain  sky." 

What  can  that  goodly  rank,  each  peak  sharp  and  pyramidal  just  along 
side  of  the  other,  every  curve  of  the  foothills  parallel  with  the  one 
before,  sweeping  down  into  the  trough-like  park  at  their  hither  base, — 
what  can  all  this  uniformity  be  but  the  splendid  chain  of  the  Sangre  de 
Cristo?  Have  we  not  seen  it  time  and  time  again,  beheld  it  from  east 
and  west  and  south,  and  now  here  from  the  north;  and  has  it  ever  been 
out  of  line,  or  anything  but  a  soldierly  array  of  uniform  heights  bearing 
the  same  relation  to  the  ill-assorted  army  of  the  rest  of  the  Rockies,  that 
the  famous  grenadiers  of  Frederick  the  Great  did  to  his  peasant  con- 
scripts? 

This  sight  explains  to  us  also,  that  the  great  width  of  lofty  hills  we 
are  picking  our  way  through  now  is  the  junction  mass  of  two  ranges.  It 
is  here  that  the  Sangre  de  Cristo  starts  off  on  its  own  line  to  the  south- 
eastward, while  the  main  chain,  forming  the  backbone  of  the  continent, 
trends  somewhat  westward  and  continues  to  do  so  more  and  more  till  it 
loses  itself  in  the  jumble  of  San  Juan,  San  Miguel,  Uncompahgre,  Bear 
and  other  ranges  that  fill  the  southwestern  corner  of  the  State.  The 
summits  north  and  southwest  of  us  divide  the  Atlantic  from  the  Pacific ; 
but  that  magnificent  corps  that  will  not  be  left  behind,  but  seems  to 
march  steadily  after  us,  in  battle  array,  separates  only  the  Arkansas 
from  the  Rio  Grande.  The  glimpses  of  valley  we  get  now  and  then  just 
this  side  its  base  are  of  Roman's  Park,  which  is  only  the  upper  end  of 
the  wide  San  Luis,  and  places  can  be  seen  that  we  could  not  reach  by 
long  traveling. 

Marshall  Pass  itself,  which  we  enter  imperceptibly  out  of  Poncho, 
is  a  depression  in  the  main  range  and  lies  between  Ouray  and  Exchequer 
mountains.  It  was  a  daring  scheme  to  run  the  road  over  here — for 
through  wouldn't  express  it  properly.  The  summit  is  almost  eleven 
thousand  feet  above  the  sea,  and  timber-line  is  so  close  that  you  can 
think  sometimes  you  are  actually  there.  The  trees  are  stunted  and  all 
stand  bent  at  an  angle,  showing  the  direction  of  the  fierce  and  prevalent 
winds  that  have  pressed  upon  them  since  their  seedling  days.  The 
cones  they  bear  start  bravely,  but  after  perfecting  three  or  four  broad 
circles  of  scales  and  seeds  the  nipping  frosts  of  August  and  September 
admonish  them  to  make  haste;  so  the  remainder  of  the  cone  is  put  forth 
so  hastily,  in  Nature's  attempt  to  complete  her  work,  that  the  whole 
remaining  length  of  fifteen  or  twenty  circlets  will  not  exceed  the  length 
of  the  first  two  or  three  full  grown  scales,  and  the  cone  ends  ridiculously 
in  a  little  useless  acuminate  tip. 

To  attain  this  height,  the  road  has  to  twist  and  wriggle  in  the  most 
confusing  way,  going  three  or  four  miles,  sometimes,  to  make  fifty  rods: 


246  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

but  all  the  time  it  gains  ground  upward,  over  some  startling  bridges, 
along  the  crest  of  huge  fillings,  through  miniature  canons  blasted  out  of 
rock  or  shoveled  through  gravel,  and  always  up  slopes  whose  steepness 
it  needs  no  practiced  eye  to  appreciate.  To  say  that  the  road  crosses  a 
pass  in  the  Rocky  mountains  10,820  feet  in  height  is  enough  to  astonish 
the  conservative  engineers  who  have  never  seen  this  audacious  line;  but 
you  can  magnify  their  amazement  when  you  tell  them  that  some  of  the 
grades  are  220  feet  to  the  mile. 

The  mountains  and  hills  in  the  neighborhood  of  Marshall  Pass  are 
clothed  for  the  most  part  with  grass,  or  else  sage-brush  and  weeds,  and 
with  timber,  scant  in  some  places,  dense  in  others.  The  tourist  will  not 
see  there  the  startling  cliffs  and  chasms  that  break  up  the  mountains  on 
the  road  to  Durango,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  he  will  not  feel  any  terror 
at  dizzy  precipices,  nor  tremble  lest  some  toppling  pinnacle  should  fall 
upon  his  fragile  car.  No  better  exhibition  of  the  greatness  and  breadth 
of  these  mountains  could  be  found,  however,  than  here.  There  stretches 
away  beneath  and  around  you  an  endless  series  of  hills,  some  rounded 
and  entirely  over-grown  with  dark  woods,  others  rising  into  a  comb-like 
crest,  or  rearing  a  dome-shaped  head  above  the  possibilities  of  timber- 
growth  and  covered  with  a  smooth  cap  of  yellowish  verdure.  They 
crowd  one  another  on  every  side,  and  brace  themselves,  each  by  each, 
as  though  their  broad  and  solid  foundations  were  not  enough  for  safety. 
They  stand  cheek  by  jowl  in  sturdy  companionship,  taking  rain  and 
sunny,  weather,  hurtling  storms  and  serene  days  with  impartial  equality. 
Your  vision  will  not  find  the  limit  of  these  huge  hills  until  it  is  cut  off 
by  the  serrated  horizon  of  the  crest  of  the  Sangre  de  Cristo,  or  by  some 
frowning  monarch  near  at  hand,  holding  his  head  high  and  venerably 
gray,  as  becomes  a  chieftain,  where  he  can  get  the  first  messages  of  the 
gods  and  be  looked  up  to  by  a  thousand  of  his  more  humble  kin. 

"It  is  like  a  huge  green  sea,"  murmurs  the  Madame,  hitherto  silent 
with  gazing.  "I  know  a  great  many  people  have  made  the  same  com- 
parison before — have  often  said  that  these  commingled  ranges  were  as  a 
sea,  tossing  its  white  crests  here  and  there  and  all  at  once  congealed ; 
but  that  is  the  very  impression  which  fixes  itself  upon  you.  These 
rounded,  or  sharp-edged,  tumultuous  mountains  are  like  a  wide,  green 
ocean."  The  great  cone  on  the  northern  side  of  the  track,  close  to 
which  the  roadway  skirts  nearly  the  whole  distance  through  the  pass,  is 
Ouray  peak.  Ouray,  as  nearly  everybody  must  know,  was  the  head 
chief  of  the  Utes.  This  tribe  only  very  lately  abandoned  all  this  portion 
of  Colorado,  leaving  last  that  reservation  which  lies  beyond  Gunnison 
City,  and  which  we  are  soon  to  visit.  The  peak  we  have  hugged  so 
closely  does  honor  to  the  dead  chief.  The  farther  you  get  around  it  the 
more  nobly  do  its  proportions  rise  into  the  blue  ether.  Like  Veta 
mountain,  which  it  closely  resembles,  this  peak  is  of  white  volcanic 
rock  that  has  decomposed  into  small  blocks.  The  sides  then  are  loose 


248  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

"slides,"  as  steep  as  the  fragmentary  stuff  will  lie,  and  the  top  is  a 
narrow  summit  with  smooth,  rounded  outlines.  We  are  only  a  few 
hundred  feet  from  the  topmost  timber,  yet  the  bald  white  summit  rears 
its  head  to  almost  unmeasured  heights  above,  and  claims  our  admira- 
tion by  its  simple  majesty,  far  more  than  does  the  broken,  cliff  fur- 
nished upthrust  of  Exchequer  peak  opposite,  though  its  black  head  is 
held  quite  as  high.  Perhaps  this  is  only  because  we  have  become 
somewhat  tired  of  the  closely-shutting  high  mountains;  weary  of  being 

" under  ebon  shades  and  low-browed  rocks," 

as  Milton  puts  it.  Certes,  it  is  good  once  more  to  be  able  to  look 
abroad ! 

On  our  way  to  the  summit  we  had  crawled  through  long  snow- 
sheds,  built  to  protect  the  road  from  the  snows  of  winter,  and  which  are 
hung  late  in  spring  with  brilliant  icicles  formed  by  the  sun  without  and 
the  cold  within.  Passing  through  the  last  shed,  which  has  a  length  of 
fully  half  a  mile,  we  reached  the  highest  point  of  the  divide,  and  while 
the  extra  engine  which  had  helped  pull  us  up  the  steep  grades  went 
cautiously  down  the  valley  toward  Gunnison  before  us,  we  climbed  the 
rocks  about  the  little  station  house,  to  enjoy  at  its  best  the  magnificent 
view  presented.  To  the  northeast,  white  with  snow,  towered  the  serrated 
range  of  the  Sangre  de  Cristo  mountains,  rising  abruptly  from  the 
valley  which  stretched  away  to  the  southeast  and  standing  out  in  bold 
relief  against  the  deep  blue  sky.  Between  the  range  and  us  were  lower 
hills  and  isolated  peaks  tumbled  into  a  confused  mass,  and  only  pre- 
vented from  pressing  too  closely  together  by  the  little  valleys  that  ran 
between  them.  Immediately  around  us  grew  stunted  pines,  bent,  barren, 
blackened  and  lifeless.  Down  the  mountain  side  the  forests  became 
denser,  greener  and  fresher,  while  from  the  distant  valleys,  at  the  bottom 
of  which  we  could  see  tiny  streams  working  their  way  to  worlds  beyond, 
came  low  murmurs  and  sweet  odors  Toward  the  west,  and  losing  itself 
in  a  hazy  distance,  ran  the  Tomichi  valley,  narrow,  heavily  wooded, 
and  free  from  all  that  rocky  harshness  so  prevalent  in  Colorado.  Far 
below  we  could  look  down  upon  four  lines  of  our  road,  terrace  below 
terrace,  the  last  so  far  down  the  mountain  as  to  be  quite  indistinct  to  the 
view.  The  iron  loops  were  lost  to  sight  at  times  as  the  road  wound 
about  some  interfering  hill ;  and  often  the  forest  was  so  dense  that  the 
track  seemed  to  have  disappeared  for  ever.  Five  hundred  feet  down 
the  mountain  side  we  could  see  a  water-tank,  and  knew  that  it  marked 
the  spot  where  we  would  be,  after  an  hour  of  twisting  down  the  incline. 
As  we  gazed  upon  the  mountains,  the  valley,  and  the  far  and  farther 
heights,  we  could  imagine  ourselves  returned  to  the  beginning  of 
things,  and  shown  the  globe  only  that  moment  finished.  There  was  a 
wealth  of  coloring,  a  sublimity  unsurpassed,  and  withal  an  attention 
given  to  detail  by  which  the  picture  was  made  perfect.  I  remember  to 


ON  THE  SUMMIT  OF  MARSHALL  PASS.  249 

have  stood  on  Marshall  Pass  once  when  the  sun  was  just  dropping  out 
of  sight  beyond  the  rolling  hills  to  the  westward.  As  it  sunk  lower  and 
lower  behind  its  curtain  of  snowy  peaks,  prismatic  hues  came  flashing 
along  the  pathway  of  its  fading  light,  which  touched  the  rugged  sides  of 
Ouray  peak  and  the  white-capped  range  beyond  until  every  treeless 
spot  and  gabled  peak  shone  with  a  mellow  hue.  All  objects — those  near 
by  and  those  far  away — flashed  bright  colors,  beautiful,  brilliant,  and  as 
varied  as  those  of  the  rainbow.  From  the  mountains  long  shadows  were 
cast,  and  in  the  forest  crept  dark  shades.  All  nature  prepared  to  sleep, 
ana  no  suuuus  came  from  around  the  lonely  pass  but  the  sighing  of  the 
wind  as  it  swept  through  the  tangled  trees.  "All  outward  things  and 
inward  thoughts  teemed  with  assurances  of  immortality." 

Our  descent  from  the  pass  was  continuous  but  slow.  At  least  it  was 
slow  at  first.  All  steam  was  shut  off  in  the  engine  and  the  air-brakes 
were  used  to  preserve  a  uniform  speed.  Winding  in  and  out  among  the 
trees,  and  catching  at  different  times  extended  views  of  the  Tomichi,  we 
worked  our  way  to  more  level  country  and  were  soon  skirting  the 
meadows  and  whirling  across  the  ranch  properties  of  the  fertile  valley. 
Close  beside  us  ran  a  sparkling  stream,  tapped  here  and  there  by  the 
farmers,  who  used  its  water  for  their  lands,  and  again  winding  its  way 
through  the  willows  that  grew  on  its  banks.  Looking  back  over  the 
way  we  had  come,  ihere  appeared  dark-green  forests,  backed  by  high 
mountains  with  bared  summits ;  but  before  us  lay  the  Tomichi,  shut  in 
on  either  side  by  low  hills  and  extending  westward  so  far  that  its  end 
was  lost  in  haze.  Everything  was  green,  fertile,  luxuriant.  Cattle 
grazed  in  the  meadows,  ricks  of  hay  stood  by  the  side  of  low-roofed 
cabins,  and  narrow  valleys  came  down  from  the  northern  mountains  to 
join  the  one  along  which  we  kept  the  swift  and  even  tenor  of  our  way. 


XXV 

GUNNISON  AND  CRESTED  BUTTE. 


"Over  the  Mountains  of  the  Moon, 
Down  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow, 
Ride,  boldly  ride," 
The  shade  replied, 
"  If  you  seek  for  El  Dorado." 

—EDGAR  A.  POE. 

JT  its  lower  end,  as  the  mountains  in  the  range  we  have 
crossed  begin  to  grow  indistinct  in  the  distance,  the 
Tomichi  valley  pushes  aside  the  hills  which  have 
hitherto  confined  it,  and  broadens  into  a  wide,  grassy 
plateau,  encircled  by  mountains,  in  the  center  of  which 
stands  Gunnison,  the  chief  town  of  Western  Colorado. 
Westward,  where  the  river  comes  down,  sculptured  cliffs  rise  near  and 
abrupt;  but  elsewhere  the  mountains  are  far  away  enough  to  make 
invisible  all  their  lesser  characteristics.  Those  to  the  north  and  south 
east  have  their  long  line  of  irregular  summits  capped  with  snow ;  but  to 
the  west  the  ranges  grow  less  rugged  and  more  rounded,  while  between 
the  hills  runs  the  valley  occupied  by  the  Gunnison  river  on  its  way  to 
the  Grand,  and  by  which  the  railway  enters  the  rich  farming  lands  of 
the  newly  opened  reservation  and  the  territory  of  Utah. 

Drawing  rapidly  nearer  the  center  of  the  plateau,  we  approached 
the  city  and  perceived  that  it  consisted  of  two  distinct  parts,  with  a  gap 
of  half  a  mile  between  them.  Then  a  new  freight- house  cut  off  the  view 
and  we  came  to  a  stoppage  in  one  of  the  busiest  "yards"  outside  of 
Denver. 

The  town,  as  I  have  said,  stands  in  the  middle  of  a  level  park,  at 
an  altitude  of  about  8,000  feet  above  the  sea.  There  is  room  enough 
"to  hold  New  York  City,"  as  the  people  are  fond  of  saying.  No 
stream  waters  the  middle  of  this  area,  but  skirting  the  further  edge, 
just  under  the  bluffs,  which  on  every  one  of  these  bright  summer 
evenings 

" topple  round  the  West, 

A  looming  bastion  fringed  with  fire," 

runs  the  Gunnison  river,  through  a  bosky  avenue  of  full-foliaged  trees 
and  thickly  interlaced  underbrush.  Away  to  the  southward  of  the  town 
again,  the  Tomichi  curves  about  the  base  of  rounded,  plush  tinted  hills 
that  look  like  the  backs  of  gigantic  elephants.  I  have  called  the  first  of 

250 


HEADWATERS  OF  THE  GUNNISON.  251 

these  streams  the  Gunnison,  but  if  you  follow  it  up  a  little  way  you  will 
come  to  repeated  forkings  known  as  East  river,  Taylor  river,  Ohio 
creek,  and  so  on.  I  believe,  therefore,  that  properly  the  Gunnison  does 
not  attain  individuality  and  deserve  its  name  until  all  this  cluster  of 
northern  tributaries  joins  with  the  Tomichi,  just  below  the  town,  and 
the  united  and  largely  increased  stream  flows  independently  onward. 


A    UTE    COUNC'L    FIRE. 

Ii  is  in  the  fork  of  these  chief  sources  of  the  Gunnison, — at  its  very 
head  so  to  speak, — that  the  town  is  placed.  It  is  not  upon  the  banks  of 
either,  but  the  pure  waters  are  easily  led  in  open  aqueducts  all  over  the 
site,  running  by  their  own  current.  There  are  places  enough  for  them 
to  run,  too,  and  people  enough  to  consume  them,  leaving  only  begrimed 
tailings  for  the  engine-tanks  at  the  station. 

The  town  began  in  two  parts  and  became  the  shape  of  a  dumb-bell, 


252  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

the  handle  represented  by  Tomichi  avenues.  The  knobs  of  town  at 
each  end  are  rival  districts  known  as  Gunnison  and  West  Gunnison,  but 
the  former  is  the  larger,  seems  to  have  the  start,  and  has  secured  such 
distinctions  as  the  post-office,  the  banks,  the  court-house,  the  high 
school  and  the  principal  newspapers.  These,  with  several  of  the  mer- 
cantile establishments,  show  fine  structures  of  brick  and  stone,  the  latter 
being  a  white  sandstone  of  great  excellence  for  building  purposes,  which 
abounds  in  the  buttes  on  the  edge  of  the  plateau.  The  majority  of  the 
houses,  both  for  business  and  for  residence,  however,  are  frame  buildings. 
Some  are  of  pretentious  size,  and  many  prettily  decorated,  so  that  we 
do  not  know,  a  cleaner,  more  regular,  cosy-looking  city  in  the  state  than 
this.  The  divided  appearance  is  gradually  disappearing  by  increased 
building  between,  which  proceeds  with  amazing  rapidity. 

The  history  of  this  valley  and  town  is  entertaining.  In  the  early 
days  of  Rocky  Mountain  exploration,  this  whole  region  was  known  as 
the  Grand  River  country,  its  noblest  stream,  now  called  the  Gunnison 
liver,  then  being  known  as  the  South  Fork  of  the  Grand.  Of  its  his- 
tory, or  its  geography,  as  I  have  intimated,  little  has  been  known 
until  very  recent  times.  It  is  recorded  that  in  1845,  ex  Governor  Gilpin, 
then  a  mere  lad,  traversed  the  entire  length  of  the  river- valley  from  west 
to  east,  on  his  return  from  Oregon  to  St.  Louis.  "Having  cross  d 
southern  Utah  by  an  old  Spanish  trail  he  pushed  his  way  up  through 
the  valleys  of  the  South  Foik  of  the  Grand,  crossing  the  divide  very  near 
the  southeastern  corner  of  what  is  now  Gunnison  county.  Although 
pursued  relentlessly  by  savages  he  was  enthusiastic  over  the  results 
of  his  trip  and  embodied  the  knowledge  so  obtained  in  a  map  which 
is  now  on  file  in  Denver.  The  interval  following  Governor  Gilpin's 
exploration  between  1845  and  1853  is  entirely  an  historical  blank,  only 
vague  Indian  stories  being  given  out  by  occasional  trappers  and  by  the 
Mormons,  who  joined  in  relating  the  beauty  and  richness  of  the  country. 
"In  1853  Captain  Gunnison,  a  gallant  officer,  following  Rock  creek 
up  to  its  head,  "discovered  a  nobler  stream  coursing  southward  from  the 
Elk  mountains.  This  stream  cost  him  his  life.  As  he  was  exploring  it, 
he  was  set  upon  (whether  by  Indians  or  not  seems  doubtful)  and  cruelly 
murdered.  After  this  adventurous  officer  the  Gunnison  river  was 
named  and  afterwards  Gunnison  county.  In  1854  the  indomitable 
'Old  Pathfinder,'  General  Fremont,  passed  over  nearly  the  same  coun- 
try from  east  to  west  and  in  his  report  paid  glowing  tribute  to  the 
beauty  and  wealth  of  these  regions.  It  was  not,  however,  until  1861, 
when  some  prospectors,  approaching  through  California  gulch,  where 
Leadville  now  stands,  gave  names  to  Washington  gulch,  Taylor  park, 
Rentz's  gulch,  and  Union  park,  that  any  positive  development  was 
undertaken.  Then  it  was  only  on  a  very  small  scale,  and  although  the 
discoveries  they  made  created  considerable  excitement  in  mining  circle? 
the  fear  of  Indians  was  yet  so  great  as  te  r-event  any  immigration  &^ 


ADVENTUROUS  PROSPECTORS.  253 

any  consequence.  This  fear  was  heightened  by  the  horrible  discovery 
one  morning  of  the  massacre  of  twelve  men  in  Washington  gulch.  This 
wholesale  tragedy  gave  a  gloomy  side-defile  the  name  of  Dead  Man's 
gulch.  The  story  of  this  outrage  quickly  spread  throughout  the  entire 
country,  each  person  coloring  it  as  it  went  and  adding  a  little  to  the  hor- 
rors of  the  event.  At  this  time  nothing  could  tempt  the  daring  miners 
of  the  adjacent  and  already  populous  Colorado  gulches  to  risk  their 
lives  in  this  country.  Even  the  most  marvelous  stories  which  were  told 
of  the  golden  bullets  used  by  the  Indians,  and  of  mines  to  which  El 
Dorado  and  Comstock  and  Golconda  were  vanities,  failed  to  tempt  their 
cupidity  sufficiently  to  cause  them  to  venture  into  the  blood- christened 
country.  A  few,  however,  who  had  already  forced  their  way  in,  earned 
a  precarious  livelihood  in  Washington  gulch,  fortified  from  the  Indians 
and  living  for  months  at  a  time  upon  game  and  fish.  In  their  leisure 
moments,  between  fighting  Indians  and  hunting  game,  they  occupied 
themselves  in  placer  mining  and,  it  is  said,  made  from  five  to  twenty 
dollars  a  day.  Not  until  1872,  however,  was  any  organized  attempt 
made  to  open  up  the  country.  In  that  year  Jim  Brenuen,  of  Denver, 
headed  a  small  party  of  prospectors  and  located  in  the  Rock  Creek 
region. 

"  From  this  time  really  dates  the  origin  of  the  mines,  their  reports 
being  so  enthusiastic  that  in  1873  Dr.  John  Parsons,  Professor  Richard- 
son and  thirty  miners  entered  from  Denver.  One  of  the  stories  of  this 
partjr  which  is  told,  but  which  is  historically  doubtful,  runs  to  the  effect 
that  in  pushing  around  by  the  southern  entrance  over  the  Saguache, 
General  Charles  Adams,  who  was  then  in  charge  of  the  frontier,  for- 
bade their  further  progress  without  the  consent  of  the  Utes.  A  heated 
debate  is  supposed  to  have  arisen  over  the  matter,  which  was  settled  by 
Chief  Ouray  himself,  voting  to  grant  them  permission.  In  1874  a 
colony  was  formed  in  Denver  to  settle  upon  and  cultivate  the  Gunni- 
son's  agricultural  lands.  Accordingly  twenty  men,  all  told,  located 
themselves  at  various  points  upon  Tomichi  river  and  gave  their  special 
attention  to  ranches.  The  mining  districts,  however,  on  account  of  the 
Leadville  and  San  Juan  excitements,  together  with  the  difficulties  and 
inconveniences  of  mining  in  this  country  at  that  time,  did  not  really 
begin  to  grow  until  several  years  later." 

In  the  latter  part  of  1877  the  state  legislature  set  off  Gunnison 
county,  containing  about  twelve  thousand  square  miles,  or  an  area  some- 
what larger  than  the  state  of  Connecticut.  Three-fourths  of  it  lay 
within  the  Ute  Reservation,  and  it  has  since  been,  subdivided  into  four 
new  counties, — Gunnison  (restricted  to  the  eastern  end),  Montrose,  Delta 
and  Mesa.  By  1880  matters  began  to  assume  a  fixed  condition.  The 
people  left  their  tents  and  sought  more  durable  habitations.  Business 
ceased  to  be  desultory.  The  prospect-diggings,  of  which  five  thousand 


254  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

had  been  recorded,  were  developed  as  rapidly  as  possible,  the  buzz  of 
the  saw-mill  and  planer  was  heard,  and  smellers  began  to  be  erected. 

Historically,  there  is  little  to  add.  Steady  growth  has  benefited 
the  city.  New  and  large  business  blocks  have  been  erected,  a  handsome 
hotel  built,  and  a  smelter  put  in  operation.  It  has  now  a  population  of 
fully  five  thousand,  is  lighted  with  gas,  and  has  a  system  of  water- 
works. The  streets  are  wide  and  clean;  and  the  entire  town  has  lost 
that  frontier  appearance  which  characterized  it  in  its  earlier  days 

And  Gunnison  is  a  railway  center.  To  the  north  the  Denver  and 
Rio  Grande  has  extended  a  branch  to  Crested  Butte  and  brought  into 
closer  communication  with  the  outside  world  the  adjoining  mining 
towns  of  Irwin,  Ruby,  Gothic,  and  others  of  less  importance.  The  road 
leads  northward  from  Gunnison  up  the  pointed  valley  until  it  gets  close 
upon  the  bank  of  East  river.  Following  the  river,  the  valley  narrows 
into  a  ravine,  and  some  interesting  masses  of  broken  volcanic  rocks, 
injected  edgewise  into  the  general  sandstone  strata,  attract  the  eye. 

It  is  the  far-away  landscape,  nevertheless,  that  holds  attention  as  we 
look  backward.  Rising  above  the  level  of  the  plain  upon  which  the 
city  is  built,  you  can  span  with  your  vision  hills  and  mesas  southward, 
and  behold  "  striking  up  the  azure"  a  vast  length  of  the  ever-magnifi- 
cent San  Juan  mountains, — the  same  glorious  pinnacles  that  towered 
about  us,  near  at  hand,  in  Baker's  park.  We  could  count  the  peaks  by 
dozens  if  we  tried,  but  it  would  be  rash  to  try  to  name  the  separate 
points  of  the  long  serration.  Many  snow  clouds  have  shed  their  burdens 
upon  them  since  we  saw  them  last,  but  to-day  their  heavens  are  clear  and 
the  sun  blazes  down  upon  scores  of  miles  of  lofty  neve  fields,  the  uniform 
purity  of  which,  at  this  distance,  seems  broken  only  by  the  shadows  the 
higher  peaks  throw  upon  their  lowlier  companions  and  upon  their  own 
half-concealed  sides.  Gazing  at  them  across  the  dim  foreground  of  sage- 
plain,  the  middle  scene  of  receding,  intermingled,  haze-obscured  and 
bluish  hills,  we  were  more  and  more  delighted  with  their  loveliness, — a 
word  whose  propriety  you  will  appreciate  when  you,  too,  have  laid 
away  this  treasure  of  memory — one  of  the  most  entrancing  bits  of  land- 
scape in  Colorado. 

There  are  a  few  patches  of  rank  meadow,  but  most  of  the  way 
the  hills  run  down  so  close  to  the  river  banks,  that  there  is  barely 
room  for  the  road-bed  to  be  made.  Growing  so  close  to  the  water  that 
they  are  reflected  in  its  depths,  are  sweet-smelling  trees,  tall,  graceful, 
luxuriant,  but  in  winter  they  bend  beneath  the  snow  that  clings  to 
them.  Reaching  to  the  top  of  the  hills  and  completely  covering  them, 
are  tangled  masses  of  brush,  pushed  aside  at  times  by  forests  of  pines 
and  torn  asunder  in  places  by  the  rocks  that  have  lost  their  balance  on 
some  far  summit  and  been  rolled  to  the  river  below.  In  the  narrowest 
places  precipices  menace  each  other  across  the  stream  ;  and  on  their 


NATURE  AT  HER  BEST. 


255 


faces,  brown  and  weather  beaten,  grow  hardy  shrubs,  clinging  to  the 
crevices  and  hugging  the  bold  headlands. 

Nor  does  the  valley  afford  satisfaclion  to  the  lover  of  what  is  only 
picturesque  in  nature.  We  have  seen  many  a  trout  whipped  from  his 
cool  retreat  under  the  shadow  of  the  rocks.  The  region  is  a  sports- 
man's paradise.  Nature  is  at  her  best,  the  forests  are  full  of  health- 
giving  odors,  and  a  day's  tramp  could  not  fail  to  bring  color  to  the 
palest  cheek,  strength  to  the  weakest  body. 

Twenty-eight  miles  north  of  Gunnison  the  narrow  valley  lets  us 


256  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

into  a  snug  little  basin  among  the  bills  wbicb  border  upon  the  Elk 
range,  Slate  river  comes  winding  through  it  from  the  north,  while  Coal 
creek  sweeps  abruptly  around  a  lofty  spur  at  the  left.  Straight  ahead, 
behind  a  green  ridge,  a  white  conical  mountain  stands  challenging  our 
admiration,  and  on  our  right  a  still  nearer  height  rises  like  a  mighty 
pyramid  of  gray  stone  from  a  richly  verdant  base. 

The  Madame  gazes  at  them  with  delight  a  moment,  but  quickly 
glances  with  more  eager  interest  to  the  meadow-land  in  which  we  are 
coming  to  a  standstill,  for  the  lush  grass  is  dyed  with  innumerable 
flowers. 

"  Why  Crested  Butte  ?  "  she  asks  as  the  station- sign  comes  in  view. 

I  point,  for  reply,  to  the  conical  gray  height  which  dominates  the 
valley. 

"That  is  neither  a  butte,  nor  is  it  crested,"  she  says.  "A  butte 
properly  is  not  a  peak  of  volcanic  or  primitive  rock  even  if  it  is  isolated 
— the  proper  name  for  that  is  'mountain'  or  'spur.'  A  butte  is  a  hill 
of  sedimentary  rock,  not  mountain-like  in  appearance,  and  standing  by 
itself  in  a  flat  region.  Moreover  there  isn't  a  bit  of  crest.  Its  apex  is 
as  sharp  and  round  as  a  well-whittled  pencil." 

"  If  you  could  look  at  it  from  the  other  side  you  might  find  a  very 
well-marked  crest." 

"  But  I  can't,  and  nobody  does,  see  it  from  the  other  side.  How- 
ever"— and  here  her  prerogative  of  inconsistency  was  exercised — "I  am 
glad  they  adopted  the  mistake  for  now  the  town  has  a  name  worth 
remembering,  something  you  can't  say  of  too  many  of  these  mountain 
villages." 

Crested  Butte  had  the  honor  to  be  the  first  settlement  in  the  Gunni- 
son  region.  A  recent  review  of  its  history  says  that  in  the  spring  of 
1877  the  Jennings  brothers,  who  were  hardy  prospectors,  penetrated  as 
far  as  the  Butte  and  were  so.newhat  surprised  and  delighted  at  finding 
coal.  Instantly  turning  their  attention  to  that  branch  of  mining  they 
located  some  land.  The  fame  of  this  discovery,  blending  with  that  of 
others,  proved  an  incentive  to  the  overflow  from  Leadville  and  the  rest 
of  Colorado.  In  1877  a  few  men  came  in,  but  no  effort  was  made  even 
to  survey  the  country  tfntil  1878.  In  that  year  Howard  F.  Smith 
dropped  in  and  purchased  some  coal  interests.  He  soon  had  the 
country  surveyed,  erected  a  store  and  advertised  so  well  that  within 
a  few  weeks  a  village  had  been  started  which  is  now  one  of  the  pleas- 
antest  summer  places  on  the  western  slope,  and  can  boast  a  hotel  that 
has  no  superior  in  the  Rocky  mountains  for  comfort.  This  is  the  Elk 
Mountain  house,  and  it  is  the  property  of  the  town-site  company,  who 
appreciate  that  the  first  impressions  of  a  traveler  (and  possible  settler) 
are  largely  colored  by  his  early  experiences  in  the  matter  of  food  and 
lodging. 

No  mines  for  gold  and  silver  exist  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the 


SOME  COAL  STATISTICS.  257 

village,  though  many  "camps"  in  the  Elk  Mountains  from  five  to 
twenty  miles  away  are  tributary  to  it ;  and  the  chief  reliance  and  raison 
d'  fore  of  the  settlement  is  found  in  the  coal-beds  that  are  adjacent  to  it. 
These  are  of  the  greatest  value  and  importance,  and  at  night,  when  the 
blaze  of  the  coke  ovens  sheds  a  lurid  glare  upon  the  overhanging  wood- 
lands and  the  snug  town,  one  can  appreciate  the  far-seeing  expectations 
that  lead  the  people  there  to  call  their  town  the  Pittsburgh  of  the  West. 
Between  two  great  foothills  south  and  west  of  the  town,  flows  a  lit- 
tle creek  whose  channel  is  cut  through  five  beds  of  coal,  dipping 
southward,  with  the  rest  of  the  stratified  rocks,  at  an  angle  of  about  six 
degrees;  the  lowest  is  ten  feet  in  thickness,  the  others  six,  five,  four  and 
three  feet.  This  coal  is  bituminous,  and  has  been  proved  to  be  the  best 
coking  coal  in  the  United  States,  as  is  shown  by  the  following  authorit- 
ative analysis: 

Coal 44        34.17        72.30        3.09 

Coke 1.35         92.03         6.62 

The  railway  having  reached  Crested  Butte,  the  coking  veins  are 
now  well  opened  "  by  three  drifts  on  water  level,  working  the  seam 
to  the  rise."  The  mines  are  prepared  for  an  output  of  four  hundred  to 
five  hundred  tons  of  coal  per  day,  and  the  coke  can  be  furnished  to  any 
extent,  by  the  Colorado  Coal  and  Iron  Company,  who  own  the  mines. 
At  first  this  coke  was  made  in  open  pits,  but  now  a  long  series  of  ovens 
has  been  built,  and  the  railway  tracks  run  to  the  ovens  and  almost  to  the 
mine-entrance.  The  cars  drawn  up  the  incline  from  the  "breasts"  to 
the  surface,  are  thence  dragged  by  mules  through  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of 
sheds,  built  to  guard  against  the  deep  winter  snows,  down  to  the  ovens 
and  the  cars.  Forty  or  fifty  miners  are  employed  at  present,  and  these 
live  with  their  families  in  large  log  houses  built  under  the  edge  of 
the  forested  hill  close  to  the  mine. 

The  coke  of  all  coal,  being  composed  of  fixed  carbon  and  ash, 
depends  for  its  value  on  the  minimum  of  ash.  The  coke  from  the  coal 
of  Crested  Butte  contains  from  two  to  six  per  cent,  less  ash  than  the 
coke  of  the  best  eastern  coals,  its  total  of  ash  amounting  only  to  six  per 
cent.  For  all  purposes  of  steam,  this  bituminous  coal  is  said  to  have  no 
superior  on  the  continent.  A  well  known  mineralogist  is  reported  to 
have  said  of  it  that,  while  a  pound  of  Pennsylvania  anthracite  will 
make  twenty-five  pounds  of  steam,  a  pound  of  this  bituminous  coal  will 
make  twenty-three  pounds;  but  while  one  pound  of  eastern  anthracite  is 
burning,  two  pounds  of  this  will  burn.  Therefore,  while  the  pound  of 
Pennsylvania  anthracite  is  making  twenty-five  pounds  of  steam,  this 
coal  will  generate  forty-six. 

These  coal-beds  can  be  traced  without  difficulty  up  Slate  river, 
exposed  here  and  there  in  the  western  bluff,  and  can  be  found  hidden  in 
the  opposite  hills.  As  it  is  followed,  however  (rising  in  altitude  with 
the  upheaval  toward  the  mountain-center),  a  change  is  seen  to  take  place 

11* 


258  THE   CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

in  its  character.  Two  miles  above  the  village  it  is  neither  soft  nor  hard ; 
a  little  farther  on,  a  part  of  the  bed  is  decidedly  anthracitic;  while  four 
miles  above  Coal  creek,  and  at  an  elevation  of  a  thousand  feet  or 
so  above  it,  genuine  anthracite  of  the  best  quality  is  mined  from  the 
same  seams  that,  four  miles  below,  yield  the  coking  soft  coal.  "  Noth- 
ing could  be  plainer,  nor  more  beautiful  to  see,"  than  this  practical 
demonstration  of  how  under  different  conditions  of  heat  and  pressure, 
the  same  carbonaceous  deposit  becomes  bituminous  or  anthracitic. 

The  anthracite  mine  is  at  the  top  of  a  wooded  hill  and  is  reached  by 
one  of  the  most  entertaining  roads  in  all  Colorado.  The  coal  beds  form 
strata  right  across  the  hill,  so  that  the  miners  can  run  their  tunnels 
out  to  daylight  in  any  direction,  and  need  not  fear  the  gas  which  is 
so  troublesome  in  the  bituminous  diggings  below.  The  vein  now 
worked  is  five  feet  thick  at  the  entry,  but  increases  to  ten  feet  in  thick- 
ness within.  It  is  solid  and  pure,  and  is  thrown  down  by  blasting. 
The  men  are  paid  seventy-five  cents  per  ton  for  breaking  it  into  con- 
venient pieces  and  loading  it  into  the  little  cars.  These  cars  are  then 
drawn  to  the  brow  of  the  hill  and  dumped  into  larger  cars  which  travel 
on  a  tramway  sixteen  hundred  feet  long,  and  most  skillfully  erected  on  a 
curved  trestle,  down  to  the  breaker  at  the  river  level.  This  breaker 
is  the  only  one  west  of  Pennsylvania,  and  is  capable  of  transmitting  five 
hundred  tons  a  day,  properly  crushed,  to  the  railway  cars,  which 
run  underneath  its  shutes. 

The  highest  excellence  is  claimed  for  this  anthracite  coal  by  its* 
owners,  not  only  for  domestic  purposes,  but  in  the  making  of  steam.  In 
price,  this  company  is  able  to  meet  the  Pennsylvanians  at  markets  on  ihe 
Missouri  river,  and  to  furnish  all  nearer  points  at  a  much  lower  rate  than 
eastern  shippers  can  afford ;  while  they  hope  to  secure  a  large  part,  if  not 
the  whole  of  the  California  business,  which  amounts  to  about  fifty  thou- 
sand tons  annually.  The  mine  and  breaker  have  now  been  put  in  shape 
to  yield  steadily  a  large  product ;  they  are  hereafter  expected  to  be  able 
to  meet  the  whole  demand.  The  anthracite  beds  in  this  region  are 
believed  to  be  very  extensive,  so  that  undoubtedly  other  mines  will  be 
opened  as  soon  as  a  large  enough  demand  will  justify  it.  The  discovery 
of  these  anthracite  beds  caused  an  immense  excitement,  for  it  was  the 
first  true  hard  coal  found  in  the  State;  and  a  mob  of  men  rushed  in  as 
though  to  an  old-fashioned  placer-find. 

This  region  in  1879,  indeed,  caused  a  great  flurry  in  the  minds  of 
prospectors  who  began  to  enter  it  at  the  risk  of  their  lives  long  before  it 
ceased  to  be  an  Indian  reservation.  As  long  ago  as  1872  argentiferous 
quartz  had  been  found  in  Rock  creek  just  over  the  divide  between  these 
waters  and  the  Roaring  Fork  of  the  Grand  river,  where  Galena,  Crys- 
tal, Treasure  and  Whopper  mountains  are  seamed  with  large  veins  of 
comparatively  low-grade,  but  easily  smelted  galena  ore.  The  center  of 
this  district  is  Crystal  City,  and  from  that  point  prospectors  pushed 


WHAT'S  IN  A  NAME.  259 

their  way  right  and  left  as  fast  as  they  dared,  and  thus  led  to  the  open- 
ing of  the  Gunnison  region. 

It  was  not  until  1879,  however,  that  the  precious  metals  were  found 
in  the  southern  slopes  of  the  Elk  mountains,  and  the  region  in  which 
we  are  now  interested  was  heralded  abroad  as  the  long-awaited  El  Dor- 
ado. Hundreds  of  men  flocked  in,  striving  to  be  first  on  the  ground. 
A  few  of  the  earliest  comers  chose  a  spot  at  the  base  of  the  sharp,  white 
mountain  so  plainly  in  view  north  of  Crested  Butte,  and  decided  that  a 
town  must  be  placed  there  to  be  called  Gothic — a  name  suggested  by  the 
appearance  of  some  cliffs  near  by.  It  was  done,  and  the  people  came  to 
fill  it.  To  it  came  all  the  business  of  the  Brush  creek,  Rock  creek,  Cop- 
per creek,  Sheep  mountain,  and  Treasure  mountain  silver  and  gold 
mines,  besides  those  nearer  at  hand — Schofield,  Galena,  Elko,  Bellevue 
and  others. 

Another  somewhat  separate  mining  locality  was  one  that  we  looked 
down  upon  as  we  stood  at  the  mouth  of  the  anthracite  tunnel  and  gazed 
across  the  deep  gorge  which  sank  between  this  and  the  opposite  hills, 
and  down  which  flowed  the  gentle  current  of  Slate  river.  The  wall  on 
the  other  side  rose  above  the  line  of  timber  growth,  and  one  peak  showed 
an  exposed  face  of  brilliant  red  rock  in  high  contrast  to  the  blue-gray  of 
the  rest.  Beneath  it  lay  Red  well  basin.  At  the  right  frightfully  rough 
cliffs  and  forested  crags  shut  in  Oh-be  joyful  gulch,  at  the  head  of 
which,  just  out  of  sight,  was  Poverty  gulch,  while  Peeler  basin  showed 
its  edge.  It  seems  to  us  that  we  can  perceive  through  the  clear  atmos- 
phere every  tree  and  stone  and  crevice  on  the  opposite  slopes,  though 
miles  away,  and  can  almost  hear  the  prattle  of  the  great  waterfall  thai 
shines  white  in  the  shady  bottom  of  the  gorge  ;  but  we  can  see  no  signs 
whatever  that  a  human  being  has  ever  been  in  all  that  area.  Neverthe- 
less over  all  that  mountain  side  there  is  said  to  be  scarcely  an  acre 
of  ground  not  partially  covered  by  mining  claims,  and  upon  some  part 
of  each  one  of  these  a  discovery-shaft  has  been  sunk.  Many  of  the 
fissures  thus  disclosed  are  of  immense  size,  carrying  veins  of  argentif- 
erous galena  from  three  to  nine  feet  in  width,  assaying  on  the  surface 
from  forty  to  one  hundred  and  sixty  ounces  of  silver  to  the  ton.  In 
some  cases  ruby  silver  or  gray  copper  have  been  reached  at  forty  or 
fifty  feet  in  depth,  assaying  over  one  thousand  ounces.  At  night  the 
coal  men  see  the  opposite  mountains  dotted  with  camp-fires,  and  the 
merchants  of  Crested  Butte  will  tell  you  that  many  a  wagon-load  and 
train  of  burros  is  packed  with  provisions  for  those  apparent  solitudes. 

"  What's  in  a  name  !  ''  exclaims  the  Madame  as  we  are  riding  home- 
ward, while  talking  over  these  districts  and  discussing  the  notable  prop- 
erties. 

"Generally  nothing,"  it  is  replied,  "so  far  as  the  designations  of 
mines  are  concerned,  but  from  the  prevalent  style  of  names  in  the  whole 
district  it  would  be  possible  to  judge  something  of  the  men  who  settled 


260  THE  CREST  OF  THE   CONTINENT. 

it.  Here,  for  instance,  one  can't  help  noticing  an  absence  of  the  rough 
gambling  titles  so  common  among  California  mines.  The  '  Euchre 
Decks,'  the  'Faro  Banks,'  the  'Little  Brown  Jugs,'  etc.,  are  few, 
and  in  their  place  we  find  the  'Shakespeare,'  the  'Iron  Duke,' 
'Baron  De  Kalb,'  'Catapult,'  and  others  with  similar  literary,  histor- 
ical or  mythological  meanings.  It  is  evident  that  no  rude  typical  miner 
presided  at  their  christening,  but  that  intelligent,  and  in  many  cases 
highly  educated,  men  discovered  and  named  them. 

Eight  miles  northwest  of  Crested  Butte  are  the  almost  united  towns 
of  Ruby  and  Irwin,  which,  in  1879  and  '80,  had  "  booms,"  but  now  are 
almost  deserted.  The  neighborhood  abounds  in  silver,  but  it  has  been 
found  that  too  many  obstacles  stand  in  the  way  of  successfully  working 
the  mines,  which  are  very  high,  and  in  a  region  famous  for  its  deep 
snows,  until  the  science  of  ore-treatment  has  progressed,  and  cheaper 
methods  of  operation  and  transportation  have  been  devised. 

Leaving  Chum  to  take  the  Madame  and  the  train  back  to  Gunnison, 
I  left  Crested  Butte  on  the  morning  after  our  ride  to  the  anthracite 
mine,  on  my  way  to  Lake  City,  discouraging  all  company. 


GATE  OF  LODORE. 


XXVI 

A  TRIP  TO  LAKE   CITY. 


A  wild  and  broken  landscape,  spiked  with  firs, 
Roughening  the  bleak  horizon's  northern  edge. 

— WHITTIER. 

AKE  CITY  is  a  mining  town  at  the  foot  of  the  San  Juan 
mountains  thirty  miles  south  of  the  railway  station  of 
Sapinero  (the  latter  named  after  a  sub  chief  among  the 
Utes  who  was  looked  upon  by  the  whites  as  a  man  of 
unusual  sagacity).  It  was  at  that  time  reached  by  a 
buckboard,  carrying  the  mail  tmd  passengers. 
The  stage-road  led  up  a  long,  long  hill  to  the  top  of  the  mesa 
between  the  Cochetopa  and  the  Lake  Fork  of  the  Gunnison.  This 
much  of  the  way  was  in  the  track  of  the  old  southern  road  to  Cali- 
fornia, which  came  up  from  Santa  Fe  to  Taos,  San  Luis  park,  Saguache, 
and  so  on  over  here  along  the  Cochetopa,  striking  the  Gunnison  river 
just  above  this  point  and  continuing  on  down  to  the  Uncompahgre, 
where  it  crossed  the  Gunnison  to  the  northern  bank  and  pushed  west- 
ward to  Utah.  This  was  the  route  followed  by  Captain  Gunnison 
in  1853,  and  it  came  to  be  known  as  the  Salt  Lake  Wagon  Road;  and  the 
whole  course  of  the  Denver  and  Rio  Grande  railway  follows  it  closely 
from  Grand  Junction  to  the  Wasatch  mountains.  The  road  is  still 
occasionally  traveled  for  short  distances  by  light  wagons  and  by  men 
driving  bands  of  horses,  who  wish  to  escape  paying  the  tolls  demanded 
along  the  new  and  improved  roads,  so  that  it  is  in  no  danger  of  becom- 
ing obliterated. 

From  the  top  of  this  high  plateau,  a  great  picture  opens  be ''ore  the 
eye,  in  all  directions.  Northward  the  peaks  of  the  Elk  range  form 
a  long  line  of  well-separated  summits.  Northeastward,  the  vista  between 
nearer  hills  is  filled  with  the  clustered  heights  of  the  Continental  Divide 
in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Mount  of  the  Holy  Cross.  Just  below  them 
confused  elevations  show  where  Marshall  pass  carries  its  lofty  avenue, 
and  to  the  southward  of  that  stretches  the  splendid,  snow-trimmed 
array  of  the  Sangre  de  Cristo.  They  fill  beautifully  the  far  eastern 
horizon,  and  end  southward  in  the  massive  buttresses  of  Sierra  Blanca, 
of  whicb  no  more  impressive  view  can  be  had  than  this  elevated  stand- 
point affords.  As  we  advance  a  few  miles  other  mountains  rise  into 
sight  straight  ahead,— that  is,  in  the  southward.  These  are  the  cold  and 

262 


LIVELY  LAKE  CITY.  2C3 

broken  summits  of  the  Sierra  San  Juan;  while  isolated  from  them, 
and  a  little  to  the  right,  stands  the  Saul  of  their  ranks, — Uncompahgie 
peak,  head  and  shoulders  above  all  his  comrades.  Nor  is  this  figure  an 
idle  comparison,  for  his  tenon  shaped  apex  easily  suggests  it. 

Half  way  to  our  destination,  the  crazy  buckboard  rattles  us  pain- 
fully down  a  steep  and  stony  hill  into  the  valley  of  the  Lake  Fork  of  the 
Gunnison,  where  there  is  room  for  several  ranches  whose  fields  of  hay 
and  oats  show  a  plentiful  growth,  and  whose  potato-patches  are  some- 
thing admirable.  The  best  of  these  is  Barnum's,  where  there  is  also  a 
store  and  a  post-office,  and  where  your  "humble  correspondent,"  suppos 
ing  himself  about  to  lay  his  head  upon  a  soft  bag  of  oats,  nearly  dashed 
his  brains  out  by  hurling  it  in  misplaced  confidence  against  a  marble- 
solid  bag  of  salt  Eheu  !  miserere  me  ! 

When  we  had  wound  our  way  farther  up  the  narrow  canon  into 
which  the  valley  contracted  on  the  further  side  of  this  gateway,  there 
came  to  view  the  precise  similitude  (but  here  on  a  lesser  scale)  of  the 
massive,  pillared,  mitre-crowned  cliffs  that  form  the  shores  of  the 
Columbia  river  between  Fort  Vancouver  and  The  Dalles. 

As  a  mining-town  Lake  City  is  not  now  so  active  as  formerly.  It 
stands  in  a  little  park  at  the  junction  of  the  Lake  Fork  (of  the  Gunnison) 
with  Hensou  creek,  —  both  typical  mountain  streams,  each  wavelet 
flecked  with  foam  and  sparkling  like  the  back  of  the  trout  it  hides. 
Henson  creek  became  especially  famous  among  prospectors,  who  found 
that,  however  large  an  army  of  miners  might  flock  in  there,  new  veins 
were  always  to  be  had  as  the  reward  of  diligent  searching  Thus  a  pop- 
ulous and  highly  enterprising  town  arose,  which  became  the  supply 
point  for  a  wide  mountain  region,  owing  to  its  accessibility  from  both 
north  and  south;  and  though  it  was  over  one  hundred  miles — mountain 
miles  at  that !  —  from  a  railway,  more  than  ten  million  pounds  of 
merchandise,  and  five  million  pounds  of  mining  machinery  and  supplies 
were  taken  in  on  wagons  during  1880,  at  a  cost  of  over  a  million  dollars 
for  transportation  alone.  A  very  good  class  of  people  went  to  Lake 
City,  too,  so  that  a  substantial  and  pretty  town  arose,  school-houses  and 
churches  were  built,  and  I  have  never  seen  a  mining  camp  where 
the  bookstores  and  news-stands  were  so  well  furnished  and  patronized. 
At  the  beginning  of  1881  about  two  thousand  people  lived  in  the  town 
itself,  not  counting  the  great  number  of  men  in  the  mountains  round 
about  ;  and  three  factories  for  the  treatment  of  ores  were  in  operation. 

Since  then,  however.  Lake  City  has  retreated  somewhat;  not  that 
the  mines  have  proved  false  to  the  confidence  placed  in  them,  but 
because  it  has  been  shown  that  until  cheaper  methods  of  transportation 
and  more  economic  treatment  can  be  devised,  the  mines  cannot  be 
worked  to  the  same  profit  which  a  similar  investment  in  some  neighbor- 
ing districts  will  return.  This  is  due  to  the  fact  that  the  ores,  of  mar- 
velous value  when  their  mass  is  considered,  are  of  too  low  grade,  as 


THE  CREST  OP  THE  CONTINENT. 


a  rule,  to  afford  a 
high  margin  over  the 
expenses  of  working. 
This  by  no  means 
condemns  the  dis- 
trict; it  only  causes 
its  stores  of  wealth 
to  be  held  in  abey- 
ance for  a  while  be- 
fore their  coinage. 
Many  another  dis- 
trict, a  few  years  ago 
thought  equally  prof- 
itless, has  risen  to  be- 
come the  scene  of 
steady  dividend-mak- 
ing labor  through  the 
perfection  of  process- 
es. It  will  not  be  long, 
before,  by  like  means, 
the  reviving  of  Lake 
City's  mines  will  oc- 
cur, and  enable  her 
to  catch  up  with  her 
more  fortunate  sisters 
in  the  wide  circle  of 
the  San  Juan  silver- 
region. 

But  when  that  time 
has  come,  —  though 
the  Alpine  grandeur 
of  the  scenery  cannot 
be  lost,  the  splendid 
shooting  and  fishing 
which  now  make  the 
village  one  of  the  fa- 
vored resorts  of  the 
west,  will  have  disap- 
peared ;  and  there  are 
some  of  us,  more  sen- 
timental than  world- 
wise,  who  will  regret 
the  change.  Over 
these  rolling  uplands, 
among  the  aspen 
groves,  upon  the  foot- 


'    WINNIE'S    GROTTO. 


A  BUNTERS  PARADlSfi.  265 

hills  and  along  the  willow-bordered  creek  deers  now  throng,  and  even 
an  occasional  elk  and  antelope  are  to  be  seen.  In  the  rocky  fastnesses 
the  bear  and  panther  find  refuge,  and  every  little  park  is  enlivened  by 
the  flitting  forms  of  timid  hares  and  the  whirring  escape  of  the  grouse 
disturbed  by  our  passing.  Upon  these  lofty,  grass  -  grown  plateaus, 
some  cattle  already  get  excellent  feeding;  and  the  time  will  be  short 
before  they  are  multiplied  into  the  vast  herds  whose  pasturage  will  be 
economised  by  good  management,  and  for  which  a  market  will  be  found 
within  a  few  days  drive  of  the  range.  Too  high  and  arid  for  exten- 
sive farming,  the  opposite,  yet  inter-dependent,  pursuits  of  mining  and 
cattle-raising,  will  ere  long  bring  all  this  elevated  interior  of  the  state 
into  full  utilization.  When  one  wonders  how  this  railway  company  is  to 
support  itself  amid  the  wilds,  this  future  must  be  remembered. 


XXVII 

IMPRESSIONS  OF  THE  BLACK  CAftON. 


By  what  furnaces  of  fire  the  adamant  was  melted,  and  by  what  wheels  of  earthquake 
It  was  torn,  and  by  what  teeth  of  glacier  and  weight  of  sea  waves  it  was  engraven  and 
finished  into  perfect  form,  we  may  hereafter  endeavor  to  conjecture. 

—JOHN  RUSKIN. 


T  was  with  eager  interest  that  we  despatched  a  hasty 
breakfast,  and  attached  our  cars  to  the  early  morning 
express  westward  bound  from  Gunnison.  The  Grand 
Canon  of  the  Gunnison  lay  just  ahead.  An  open 
"observation"  car,  crowded  with  sightseers,  was 
hooked  on  behind  us,  but  that  did  not  interfere  with 
our  favorite  rear  platform,  and  thither  our  camp-stools  were  taken. 

This  river  Gunnison  has  a  hard  time  of  it.  The  streams  that  finally 
unite  to  make  it  up,  are  loath  to  do  so,  and  it  came  near  not  being  born 
at  all.  The  flat  country  we  see  just  below  the  town  vouchsafes  a  few 
quiet  miles  under  the  cottonwoods,  but  presently  the  hills  close  in,  and 
then  the  river  must  needs  gird  up  its  loins  for  a  struggle  such  as  few 
other  streams  in  the  wide  world  know.  Its  life  thenceforth  is  that  of 
a  warrior;  and  it  never  lays  aside  its  knightly  armor  till  the  very  end  in 
the  absorbing  flood  of  the  Grand. 

Above  the  rattle  of  the  train,  echoing  from  the  rocky  highlands 
that  hem  it  in,  we  can  hear  the  roaring  of  this  water  as  we  thunder 
down  its  sinuous  course  toward  Sapinero.  Great  fragments  that  have 
fallen  from  the  steep  banks,  where  an  avalanche  of  stones  lies  pre- 
cariously as  though  even  the  shock  of  our  passing  would  set  them 
sliding,  fret  the  stream  with  continual  interruptions  and  turn  its  green 
flood  into  lines  of  yeasty  white.  These  same  rocks  are  admirable  fish- 
ing-stands, however,  for  the  trout  love  the  deeply  aerated  water  that 
swirls  about  them  ;  and  we  see  more  than  one  silvery  fin  snatched 
from  its  crystal  home  to  hang  in  mute  misery  upon  the  angler's  switch  of 
forked  willow. 

"Do  you  think  it's  right?"  asks  the  Madame,  with  a  pitiful  tone 
in  her  voice. 

"  No,  but  it  can't  be  helped  ;  and  you'll  find  some  casuistry  to  meet 
the  case  about  dinner-time." 

"Casuistry — casuistry?"  says  Chum  reflectively.  "Is  that  a  new 
kind  of  sauce?  " 

Ahead  the  green  hills,  marked  with  horizontal  lines,  that  we  suspect 


ENTERING  BLACK  CAfrON.  267 

to  indicate  outcroppings  of  lava,  shut  quite  across  our  path.  Neverthe- 
less we  can  detect  a  dark  depression  toward  which  the  track  points 
straight  as  an  arrow,  and  we  suppose  that  at  that  point  an  entrance 
exists.  Behind  it  stood  summits  so  lofty  that  this  barrier  did  not  seem 
imposing ;  but  now  that  a  gateway  has  opened  (yet  far  enough  only  for 
our  track  to  enter  by  encroaching  on  the  river's  highway),  we  are 
surprised  at  the  altitude  of  the  walls  which  momently  rise  higher  and 
higher  on  each  side,  as  though  we  were  descending  a  steep  incline  into 


ECHO  ROCK. 

the  earth.    At  what  an  abyss  must  the  river  lie  in  the  middle  of  the 
range  ! 

The  early  morning  sun  streams  warm  and  rich  into  the  canon, 
dispelling  the  nocturnal  chill  and  making  the  air  delightful  beyond 
expression.  We  are  hurled  along  between  close-shutting  crags  that 
are  the  type  of  solidity,  yet  seem  to  waver  and  topple  at  their  summits 
as  we  gaze  at  them,  cut  strongly  against  the  tremulous  blue  of  the  sky. 
Our  ears  are  assaulted  by  the  crashing  of  iron  against  iron  and  steam 
shrieking  at  the  wind,  and  by  the  roar  and  dashing  of  enraged  and  baf- 
fled water.  The  lyric  sweetness  of  the  distant  hill-picture  caught  in  our 
backward  glance  as  we  entered  the  gates  of  the  canon,  is  gone;  the 
poetry  of  this  scene  has  the  epic  dignity  and  the  stirring  excitement  of 
a  war-story  sung  on  the  eve  of  righteous  battle.  This  is  the  site  and  the 


268  THE  CREST  Off  THE  CONTINENT. 

monument  of  a  struggle  between  forces  such  as  we  have  no  capacity  to 
comprehend.  Take  a  fragment  of  this  shining  rock  not  so  large  but 
that  you  may  lift  it,  and  you  will  find  that  studied  ingenuity,  and  the 
vigorous  application  of  power  that  men  speak  of  as  enormous,  are 
required  to  break  it  into  smaller  pieces.  Yet  here  are  masses  many  hun- 
dreds of  feet  high  and  wide,  that  have  been  riven  as  I  might  halve  a 
piece  of  clay.  You  may  say  it  was  done  thus,  or  so.  No  matter,  the 
impression  of  stupendous  power  remains  and  imprints  itself  deeply 
on  the  mind.  Here  for  miles  we  pass  between  escarpments  of  rock, 
a  thousand,  fifteen  hundred — ay,  here  and  there  more  than  two  thousand 
feet  high.  This  is  not  a  valley  between  mountains  with  sloping  sides 
slowly  worn  away.  Here  are  vertical  exposures  that  fit  together  like 
mortise  and  tenon  ;  facing  cliffs  that  might  be  shut  against  one  another 
so  tightly  that  almost  no  crevice  would  remain.  To  view  this  mighty 
chasm  thoughtfully,  is  to  receive  a  revelation  of  the  immeasurable 
power  pent  up  in  the  elements  whose  equilibrium  alone  forms  and  pre- 
serves our  globe  ;  and  if  we  call  it  "awful,"  the  word  conveys  not 
so  much  a  dread  of  any  harm  that  might  happen  to  us  there,  as  the 
vague  and  timorous  appreciation  of  the  dormant  strength  under  our  feet. 
If  the  gods  we  call  dynamic  can  rive  a  pathway  for  a  river  through 
twenty  miles  of  solid  granite,  of  what  use  is  any  human  safeguard 
against  their  anger  ? 

But  away  with  these  serious  thoughts!  The  cliffs  are  founded 
in  unknown  depths  it  is  true,  but  their  heads  soar  into  the  sunlight,  and 
break  into  forms  not  too  great  for  us  to  grasp.  Straight  from  the  liquid 
emerald  frosted  with  foam  which  flecks  their  base — straight  as  a  plum- 
met's line,  and  polished  like  the  jasper  gates  of  the  Eternal  city,  rise 
these  walls  of  echoing  granite  to  their  dizzy  battlements.  Here  and 
there  a  promontory  stands  as  a  buttress;  here  and  there  a  protruding 
crag  overhangs  like  a  watch-tower  on  a  castle-wall  ;  anon  you  may  fancy 
a  monstrous  profile  graven  in  the  angle  of  some  cliff, — a  gigantic 
Hermes  rudely  fashioned.  In  one  part  of  the  canon  where  the  cliffs  are 
highest,  measuring  three  thousand  feet  from  the  railway  track  to  the 
crown  of  their  haughty  heads,  faces  of  the  red  granite,  hundreds  of 
feet  square,  have  been  left  by  a  oplit  occurring  along  a  natural  cleavage- 
line;  and  these  are  now  flat  as  a  mirror  and  almost  as  smooth.  On  the 
other  hand,  you  may  see  places  where  the  rocks  rise,  not  solid,  sheer  and 
smooth,  but  so  crumpled  and  contorted  that  the  partition-lines,  instead 
of  running  at  right  angles,  are  curved,  twisted  and  snarled  in  the  most 
intricate  manner,  showing  that  violent  and  conflicting  agitations  of  the 
rock  must  have  occurred  there  at  a  time  when  the  whole  mass  was 
heated  to  plasticity.  In  another  place,  the  cliff  on  the  southern  side 
breaks  down  and  slopes  back  in  a  series  of  interrupted  and  irregular 
terraces,  every  ledge  and  cranny  having  a  shapely  tree ;  while  not  far 
away  another  part  of  the  long  escarpment,  the  rocky  layers,  turned 


CURRECANTI    NEEDLE.  269 

almost  on  edge,  have  been  somewhat  bent  and  broken,  so  that  they  lie  in 
imbricated  tiers  upon  the  convex  slopes,  as  if  placed  there  shingle- 
fashion. 

Just  opposite,  a  stream  whose  source  is  invisible  has  etched  itself  a 
notched  pathway  from  the  heights  above.  It  plunges  down  in  headlong 
haste  until  there  comes  a  time  when  there  is  no  longer  rock  for  it  to  flow 
upon,  and  it  flings  itself  out  into  the  quiet  air,  to  be  blown  aside  and 
made  rainbows  of,  to  paint  upon  the  circling  red  cliffs  a  wondrous 
picture  in  flashing  white,  and  then  to  fall  with  soft  sibilancy  into  the 
river.  The  river  has  no  chance  to  do  so  brave  a  thing  as  this  leap 
of  Chippeta  falls  from  the  lofty  notch;  but  seeing  a  roughened  and 
broken  place  ahead  where  the  fallen  bowlders  have  raised  a  barrier,  it  goes 
at  it  with  a  rush  and  hurls  its  plumes  of  foam  high  overhead,  as,  with 
swirl  and  tumult,  and  a  swift  shooting  forth  of  eddies  held  far  under  its 
snowy  breast,  it  bursts  through  and  over  the  obstacle  and  sweeps  on, 
conqueror  to  the  last. 

In  the  very  center  of  the  canon,  where  its  bulwarks  are  most  lofty 
and  precipitous,  unbroken  cliffs  rising  two  thousand  feet  without  a 
break,  and  shadowed  by  overhanging  cornices, — just  here  stands  the 
most  striking  buttress  and  pinnacle  of  them  all, — Currecanti  Needle. 
It  is  a  conical  tower  standing  out  somewhat  beyond  the  line  of  the 
wall,  from  which  it  is  separated  (so  that  from  some  points  of  view  it 
looks  wholly  isolate,)  on  one  side  by  a  deep  gash,  and  on  the  other  by 
one  of  those  narrow  side-canons  which  in  the  western  part  of  the  gorge 
occur  every  mile  or  two.  These  ravines  are  filled  with  trees  and  make  a 
green  setting  for  this  massive  monolith  of  pink  stone  whose  diminishing 
apex  ends  in  a  leaning  spire  that  seems  to  trace  its  march  upon  the 
sweeping  clouds. 

It  was  in  the  recesses  of  the  rift  beside  Currecanti  Needle,  says  a 
tradition  which  at  least  is  poetic,  that  the  red  men  used  to  light  the  mid- 
night council -fires  around  which  they  discussed  their  plans  of  battle. 
Though  judgment  may  refuse  the  fact,  fancy  likes  to  revel  in  such  a 
scene  as  that  council-fire  would  have  made,  deep  in  the  arms  of  the 
rocky  defile.  How  the  fitful  flashes  of  the  pungent  cedar-flame  would 
have  driven  back  the  lurking  darkness  that  pressed  upon  it  from  all 
sides  !  How,  now  and  then  starting  up,  the  blaze-light  would  sally  forth 
and  suddenly  disclose  some  captive  of  the  gloom  rescued  from  oblivion 
— perhaps  a  mossy  bowlder,  an  aged  juniper,  a  ghostly  cottonwood 
stump,  or  a  ledge  of  sleeping  blossoms !  How  the  bright  and  polished 
rocks  would  be  re-reddened  and  sparkle  at  their  angles  under  the  glanc- 
ing light;  while  the  pretty  soprano  of  the  stream  and  the  deep  bass  of 
the  river's  roar  sang  a  duet  to  the  narrow  line  of  stars  that  could  peep 
down  between  the  canon  walls !  Surely  the  time  and  place  were  suitable 
for  planning  the  lurid  warfare  of  a  savage  race ;  and  as  these  untamed 
men,  their  muscular  limbs  and  revengeful  faces,  disclosed  uncertainly, 


270  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

like  the  creatures  of  a  flitting  fantasy,  in  the  red  firelight,  enacted  with 
terrifying  gestures  the  fierce  future  of  their  plotting,  a  spectator  might 
well  think  himself  with  fiends. 

"On  Night's  plutonian  shore," 

or  else  discard  the  whole  picture  as  only  the  fantastic  scenery  of  some 
disordered  dream. 

Opposite  Currecanti  Needle  and  canon  stand  some  very  remarkable 
rocks,  underneath  the  greatest  of  which  the  train  passes.  Then  there  is 
a  long  bridge  to  cross  where  the  river  bends  a  little ;  and  perhaps  the 
echoing  chasm  will  be  filled  with  the  hoarsely  repeated  scream  of  a 
warning  whistle.  And  so,  past  wonder  after  wonder,  Pelion  upon  Ossa, 
buried  in  a  huge  rocky  prison,  yet  always  in  the  full  sunlight,  you  sud- 
denly swing  round  a  sharp  corner,  leaving  the  Gunnison  to  go  on 
through  ten  miles  more  of  canon,  and  crashing  noisily  through  the  zig- 
zag canon  of  the  Cimmaron,  which  is  so  very  narrow  and  dark  it  deserves 
no  better  name  than  crevice,  quickly  emerge  into  daylight  and  a  busy 
station. 

Thus  I  have  tried  to  give  the  reader  some  trifling  indication  of 
what  he  may  expect  to  see  during  his  hour  in  the  heart  of  the  "  Black  " 
canon,  which  is  not  black  at  all  but  the  sunniest  of  places.  I  cannot 
understand  how  the  name  ever  came  to  be  applied  to  it.  No  Kobolds 
delving  in  darkness  would  make  it  their  home;  but  rather  troops  of 
Oreades,  darting  down  the  swift  green  shutes  of  water  between  the 
spume-wet  bowlders,  dancing  in  the  creamy  eddies,  struggling  hand 
over  hand  up  the  lace  ladders  of  Chippeta  Falls,  to  tumble  headlong 
down  again,  making  the  prismatic  foam  resound  with  the  soft  tinkling 
of  their  merry  laughter.  All  the  Sprites  of  the  canon  are  beings  of 
brightness  and  joy.  The  place  is  full  of  gayety. 

This  sense  of  color  and  light  is  perhaps  the  strongest  impression 
that  remains.  Though  it  is  quite  as  deep  and  precipitous  as  the  Royal 
gorge  it  is  not  so  gloomy  and  frowning;  though  the  cataracts  are  greater 
than  those  at  Toltec,  they  are  not  so  fear-inspiring.  In  place  of  dark 
and  impenetrable  walls,  here  are  varied  facades  of  lofty  and  majestic 
design,  yet  each  unlike  its  neighbor  and  all  of  the  most  brilliant  hue. 
The  cliffs  are  architectural,  suggestive  of  human  kinship  and  more  than 
marvelous — they  are  interesting. 

Then  there  is  the  brilliant  and  resistless  river.  At  Toltec  it  is  only 
a  murmuring  cataract ;  in  the  Royal  gorge  a  stream  you  may  often  leap 
across ;  the  Rio  de  Las  Animas  is  deep  and  quiet.  But  here  rushes  along 
its  gigantic  flume  a  great  volume  of  hurried  water,  rolled  over  and  over 
in  headlong  haste,  hurled  against  solid  abutments  to  recoil  in  showers  of 
spray  or  to  sheer  off  in  sliding  masses  of  liquid  emeiald.  Now  some 
quiet  nook  gives  momentary  rest.  The  water  is  .still  and  deep.  Small 
rafts  of  seedy  foam  swing  slowly  around  the  edges,  tardy  to  dissolve. 


PICTURES  OF  THE 


271 


GUNNISON'S     BUTTE. 

The  rippled  sand  can  be  seen  in  wavy  lines  far  underneath  like  the 
markings  on  a  duck's  breast.  The  surplus  water  curves  like  bent  glass 
over  the  dam  that  rims  the  pool  on  its  lower  side,  and  beyond  is  a  whirl- 
pool of  foam  and  the  hissing  tumult  of  shattered  waves  amid  which  rise 
the  sharp  crests  of  crimson  bowlders  flounced  with  snowy  circles  of  foam. 


272  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

Alternating  with  the  vast  pillars  and  the  slick  faces  of  red  rock  are 
the  nooks  and  ravines  where  trees  grow,  flowers  bloom  and  the  eye  can 
get  a  glimpse  of  a  triangle  of  violet  sky ;  while  sometimes  a  silken  skein 
of  white  water  can  be  traced  down  the  deepest  recesses  of  the  glen,  and 
the  gleam  of  swallow's  wings  flitting  in  colonies  about  their  circular 
adobes  bracketed  against  the  wall. 

These  facts,  noted  like  short  hand  memoranda  upon  the  brain  as 
they  quickly  flash  by,  slowly  return  to  the  memory  and  feed  recollection, 
as  the  mind  in  after  days  elaborates  the  impression  made  by  each,  and 
summons  a  series  of  separated  and  leisurely  pictures  before  the  imagina- 
tion; but  no  writer  can  depict  for  another  what  the  form  of  these 
pictures  shall  be.  I  recite  to  you  the  elements — stupendous  measure- 
ments, majestic  forms,  splendid  colors,  the  gleaming  green  and  white  of 
water,  the  blue  and  gold  of  sun  and  sky,  the  crystalline  sparkle  of  red- 
dened rocks ;  but  you  must  yourself  receive  these  elements  if  you  are  to 
paint  adequately  to  your  fancy  the  pictures  of  the  canon.  It  is  not 
literary  cant,  but  the  literal  truth,  when  I  say  that  to  be  understood,  this 
marvelous  pathway  through  the  mountains  must  be  seen.  And  having 
seen  it,  you  have  enriched  your  memory  beyond  anything  you  could 
have  foretold. 


XXVIII 
THE  UNCOMPAHGRE  VALLEY. 


The  hills  grow  dark, 

On  purple  peaks  a  deeper  shade  descending; 
In  twilight  copse  the  glow-worm  lights  her  spark, 
The  deer,  half -seen,  are  to  the  covert  wending. 

— WALTEK  SCOTT. 

HE  station  at  the  western  end  of  the  canon  of  the  Gun- 
nison  is  called  Cimmaron  after  the  river  upon  whose 
banks  it  stands.  In  the  prehistoric  days  before  the  rail- 
way, this  was  Cline's  ranch,  where  all  the  stages  from 
the  Gunnison  to  the  San  Miguel  region  stopped.  He 
was  one  of  the  few  pioneers  who  got  on  well  with  the 
Indians,  and  his  monument  stands  in  the  name  of  a  peak  down  by 
Ouray. 

From  Cimmaron  upward  stretches  one  of  the  steepest  grades  between 
Denver  and  Salt  Lake,  in  order  to  surmount  Squaw  Hill  in  the  Cedar 
range, — the  water-shed  between  the  Cimmaron  and  the  lower  drainage 
of  the  Gunnison.  Two  locomotives  drag  us  at  a  snail's  pace,  struggling, 
puffing  rapidly  and  spasmodically  just  as  though  their  lungs  were  tor- 
tured by  the  rarity  of  the  air.  Their  efforts  suggest  Pope's  line,  and 
seem  to  beat  time  to  it, — 

"When  Ajax  strives,  some  rock's  vast  weight  to  throw. 
The  line,  too,  labors,  and  the  words  move  slow." 

There  is  nothing  to  be  seen  but  great  knolls  of  grass  and  sage  brush, 
sometimes  showing  their  rocky  anatomy;  and  this  nakedness  is  a  relief 
after  the  strain  upon  our  attention  in  the  canon.  Finally  we  get  high 
enough  to  look  far  away  to  a  horizon  full  of  hazy  mesas  and  peaked 
mountains,  with  a  touch  of  valley  land  down  in  the  center  of  the  picture. 
A  cool  breeze  blows,  and  comes  with  refreshing. 

The  valley  we  see  is  our  first  view  of  the  Uncompahgre  ;  and  in  the 
middle  of  the  afternoon  we  reach  the  town  of  Montrose, — a  settlement  of 
wooden  houses. 

Here  we  stopped.  There  were  two  reason :  first,  this  was  the  point 
of  departure  for  the  upper  valley  of  the  Uncompahgre,  and  the  mining 
region  on  the  northern  front  of  the  San  Juan  mountains;  second,  we 
wanted  to  know  the  arguments  that  had  induced  some  hundreds  of  peo- 
ple to  make  their  homes  in  the  midst  of  this  white  Sahara. 

The  first  of  these  objects  required  instant  attention,  for  between  our 

273 


274  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

arrival  at  Montrose  and  the  departure  of  the  stage  up  the  valley  to  the 
Uncompahgre  Cantonment,  and  the  town  of  Ouray,  there  was  time  only 
to  get  a  hearty  luncheon.  Chum  had  said  from  the  start  that  he  was 
quite  willing  to  concede  all  the  attractions  of  Ouray,  and  declined  posi- 
tively to  leave  the  comfort  of  home.  I  told  him  he  was  missing  a  good 
deal,  but  he  said  that  he  had  lost  all  faith  in  good  deals — didn't  "  gamble 
any  more  on  that  chance," — and  persisted  in  his  "No,  thank  you." 

The  Madame  felt  both  inclined  and  disinclined.     She  knew  the  hor- 
rors of  staging,  she  said  it  was  a  fit  punishment  for  malefactors,  and  she 


BUTIES    OF    THE    CRObS. 

dreaded  even  forty  miles  of  it,  on  a  level  road,  worse  than  a  fit  of  sick- 
ness. "  Then  she  looked  unutterable  sympathy  at  me,  and  began  to 
reflect  that  possibly  her  duty  as  a  wife  required  her  to  go  (seeing  that 
I  couldn't  escape  it,)  in  order  to  share  the  discomforts  her  husband  was 
obliged  to  undergo,  and  do  what  she  could  to  alleviate  his  tortures. 

Just  at  this  juncture,  for  doubt  had  swayed  her  usually  well-decided 
mind  up  to  the  last  minute,  she  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  big  red  coach 
coming  from  the  hotel  toward  us.  Its  noise  was  as  the  thundering  of 
"the  chariots  of  Israel  and  the  horsemen  thereof."  It  swung  from  side 
to  side  like  a  fire  steamer  tearing  over  Baltimore  cobble  stones.  It 
lunged  into  irrigating  ditches  and  came  pitching  up  out  of  them,  while 
the  hind  boot  dived  in  to  be  brought  up  with  a  frame-cracking  jolt,  and 
it  rocked  fore  and  aft  like  a  Dutch  lugger  in  a  chop  sea.  Its  great  con- 
cavity was  packed  full  of  unfortunate  Jonahs,  swallowed  "bag  and 


THE  STAGE  RIDE.  275 

breeches."  Its  capacious  baggage  receptacles  before  and  behind  were 
distended  with  trunks  and  valises,  rolls  of  blankets,  packages  of  news- 
papers, boxes  of  fruit  and  dozens  of  mail-sacks.  Its  roof  was  piled  with 
a  confused  mass  of  luggage  and  sweltering  humanity.  There  wasn't  a 
lady  to  be  seen.  Chum  looked  at  me  as  I  buttoned  my  duster,  and  lift- 
ing a  corner  of  the  Madame's  apron  to  his  eye,  choked  back  a  sympa- 
thetic sob. 

"  Come  on!  "  I  called  to  the  person  who  was  anxious  to  alleviate  my 
tortures,  but  she  held  back. 

"  I'm— thinking — whether — after  all " — 

"Oh,  are  you?  Good — give  us  a  kiss — goodbye!  Better  do  your 
thinking  now  than  after  you're  tired  out  up  the  valley.  I'll  be  back 
shortly,  and  expect  you  to  know  all  about  Montrose." 

The  big  red  coach  came  to  a  lurching  anchorage  close  by  the  door 
and  I  climbed  to  the  vacant  seat  beside  the  driver,  for  which,  with  the 
wisdom  of  experience,  I  had  telegraphed  a  request  the  day  before. 

"Been  a-keepin'  this  seat  for  you  with  a  club,"  said  Jehu,  curtly, 
as  he  gathered  up  the  reins  of  four  grey  horses  and  removed  his  foot 
from  the  brake. 

There  was  the  sensation  of  a  geological  upheaval,  forward.  I  dug 
my  heels  hard  into  the  mail-sacks  heaped  upon  the  foot-board,  clutched 
the  hand-rail  of  the  seat,  set  my  back  against  the  knees  of  the  man  on  the 
dicky  seat,  stiffened  my  neck  to  save  my  head  from  being  snapped  off, — 
and  we  were  under  way. 

A  whole  chapter  could  be  written  about  that  stage  ride  and  my 
fellow  travelers,  but  it  will  keep.  The  road  crossed  the  yellow  Uncom- 
pahgre,  and  stretched  like  a  chalk-mark  athwart  the  sage  green  expanse 
of  gravelly  valley.  One  of  the  outside  passengers  was  an  Englishman 
who  had  spent  seven  years  in  the  diamond  fields  of  South  Africa.  He 
told  us  this  region  reminded  him  of  that  land,  and  entertained  us  by 
his  accounts  of  it,  and  of  the  Caffres — especially  the  English  habit  of 
knocking  one  down  (a  Caffre-boy  was  always  handy)  whenever  the 
aggrieved  temper  of  a  white  man  required  any  little  relief.  So,  with 
umbrella  overhead  and  green  goggles  to  break  the  glare,  —  despite  the 
purple-blue  storms  we  could  see  stalking  about  the  mountain-ranges 
ahead — the  first  seven  miles  passed  speedily,  and  we  drew  up  at  the 
sutler's  store  of  the  pretty  military  cantonment,  whose  buildings  had 
loomed  mirage-like  for  more  than  half  the  way. 

When  the  Utes  were  ready  to  be  moved  from  this  valley  over  to  the 
new  Uintah  agency,  a  military  post  was  established  here.  As  its  per- 
manence was  not  decided  upon,  only  a  cantonment  was  founded,  pro- 
viding temporary  quarters  in  log  houses  for  six  companies.  It  was 
called  simply  the  Cantonment  on  the  Uncompahgre,  and  was  at  first  gar- 
risoned  by  the  Twenty-third  Infantry.  In  1882,  however,  this  regiment 
was  relieved  by  four  companies  of  the  Fourteenth  Infantry.  Its  com- 


276  THE  GRE8T  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

manding  officer,  Lieutenant  Colonel  Henry  Douglass  is  here,  although 
the  headquarters  of  the  regiment  are  at  Sidney,  Nebraska. 

The  post,  as  I  said,  is  not  intended  to  be  a  permanent  one.  The 
visitor  must  not  expect,  therefore,  the  handsome  buildings  and  grounds 
to  be  seen  at  Camp  Douglass,  Salt  Lake  City,  where  this  regiment  was 
domiciled  for  seven  years,  enduring  meanwhile  some  hard  service  in 
Indian  fighting. 

We  had  already  passed  Ouray  Farms,  where  Ouray,  the  fine  old 
head-chief  of  all  the  Ute  confederation,  lived  toward  the  end  of  his  life 
in  a  good  house  built  of  adobe  after  the  Mexican  fashion,  and  cultivated 
the  neighboring  bottom-lands.  His  farm  made  the  grand  center  of  Ute 
interest,  and  from  the  pleasant  groves  near  it  radiated  all  the  trails  across 
mountain  and  plain.  Many  out-houses,  of  log  and  frame,  surrounded 
the  main  building  and  testify  that  order  was  one  of  the  great  chief's  good 
qualities.  Here,  after  his  death  Chippeta,  widow  of  Ouray,  continued 
to  live,  raising  farm  products  and  pasturing  sheep,  and  so  attached  had 
she  become  to  the  spot  that  she  importuned  the  government  to  be  granted 
the  privilege  of  abandoning  her  race  and  returning  to  her  farm  home. 
The  government  refused  this  request,  but  decided  to  sell  the  farm  for 
the  personal  benefit  of  Chippeta. 

All  along  the  river,  which  ran  between  thick  belts  of  trees  some 
distance  at  our  left,  we  had  seen  spaces  of  meadow  and  a  few  ranches. 
At  the  old  Agency — four  miles  above  the  post — we  came  to  its  lofty 
bank  at  a  point  where  the  river  bent  in  so  close  to  the  foot  of  the  bluff, 
that  water  for  the  station-stables  was  drawn  up  by  means  of  a  pulley 
mounted  in  a  tall  scaffolding  of  poles  standing  in  front  of  the  cliff,  and 
reached  by  a  bridge.  It  was  a  well,  built  some  sixty  feet  out  of  ground, 
like  that  Nevada  tunnel  Mark  Twain  describes,  which,  having  gone 
quite  through  the  hill,  was  continued  out  upon  a  staging. 

The  road  thence  ran  along  the  edge  of  the  bluff  and  through  the 
woods — a  road  upon  which  we  rattled  at  a  steady  trot,  although  on  the 
left  there  was  nothing  to  break  our  fall  for  a  hundred  feet  or  so,  should 
an  accident  tip  us  over.  The  river  valley,  thus  sunken,  was  sometimes 
narrow  and  the  stream  turbulent  among  rocks;  sometimes  a  mile  or  two 
wide  with  willow-covered  bottoms ;  sometimes  showing  islands  crowded 
with  trees  and  thickets,  or  of  great  bends  where  lay  spaces  of  rank 
meadow.  Two  or  three  little  houses  were  pointed  out  where  head  men 
among  the  Indians  had  lived  on  small  farms,  and  the  driver,  who  had 
run  a  stage  before  the  red  men  left,  told  us  many  interesting  stories 
of  their  life  in  this  favorite  valley. 

Leaving  the  river  and  the  verdant  gorge,  its  cottonwoods  illumined 
with  flaming  light  of  the  sunset,  the  road  took  to  the  higher  ground  and 
gave  us  many  a  good  jolt  in  crossing  the  small  acequias  which  watered 
the  upper  ranches  on  the  edge  of  the  mesa,  and  then  came  into  view  of 
Uncompahgre  park,  stretching  away  to  the  westward  like  a  prairie,  and 
the  scene  of  some  of  the  finest  farming  in  Colorado.  There  are  about 


COLORADO  RANCHES.  277 

thirty  ranches  where,  half  a  dozen  years  ago  was  nothing  but  wild 
pasture.  The  ranchmen  were  all  poor  men  when  they  came  here;  now 
they  have  pleasant  houses,  well  fenced  and  irrigated  farms  and  equip- 
ments in  abundance.  I  heard  of  one  ranch  sold  lately  for  ten  thousand 
dollars,  and  was  told  of  another  where  the  owner  cleared  six  thousand 
dollars  for  his  last  season's  profits.  Everything  is  raised  except  Indian 
corn,  but  wheat  is  not  cultivated  so  extensively  as  it  will  be  when  mill 
ing  facilities  are  better.  Barley,  oats,  hay  and  vegetables  are  the  princi- 
pal crops,  and  potatoes  probably  offer  the  highest  return  of  all.  Prices 
have  decreased  to  one-fifth  the  figures  of  five  years  ago,  yet  the  ranch- 
men prosper  and  increase  their  acreage,  putting  surplus  money  into 
cattle  which  roam  upon  the  adjacent  uplands.  The  land  is  by  no  means 
all  taken  up,  however,  and  improved  property  can  be  bought  at  reason- 
able prices.  There  is  plenty  of  water,  too,  an  important  consideration. 

In  the  center  of  the  park  we  passed  a  copious  spring  of  hot  mineral 
water,  carrying  much  iron,  as  we  could  tell  by  the  circular  tank  of 
ferric  oxide  it  had  built  around  it,  forming  a  bath  large  enough  for 
a  hundred  persons  at  once.  As  yet  there  are  few  arrangements  for  mak- 
ing use  of  this  fountain, — a  fact  due  to  the  plentiful  hot  springs  of  iron 
and  of  sulphur  (sulphate  of  lime,  etc.),  water  close  to  Ouray,  where 
a  sanitarium  and  bath  houses  have  been  fitted  up,  and  where  persons 
suffering  from  rheumatism  and  kindred  ailments  find  great  benefit. 
So  much  Warm  water  is  poured  into  the  Uncompahgre,  in  fact,  that 
nothing  more  than  a  film  of  ice  forms  upon  it  in  the  coldest  weather. 
Remembering  all  these  varied  advantages,  it  is  no  wonder  the  Utes 
loved  the  place  and  protested  against  its  loss. 

The  mountains  ahead  came  into  plainer  view,  as  we  left  the  park ; 
we  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  curious  Sawtooth  range  off  at  the  left, 
saw  that  the  rounded  outlines  of  the  bluffs  on  each  side  were  changing 
to  abrupt  walls,  and  trending  inward,  and  then  the  hush  of  night  and 
the  quiet  of  weariness  came  to  still  our  conversation  and  turn  our 
thoughts  into  meditative  channels.  Darkness  enveloped  the  world  and 
we  pulled  slowly  through  it  by  the  light  of  a  thousand  brilliant  stars — 
the  same  stars  that  shone  on  the  Madame  and  Chum;  that,  beyond  the 
Range,  shed  soft  light  on  the  shepherds  and  herdsmen  of  the  great 
plains ;  that  trembled  in  the  eddies  of  the  Mississippi ;  that  were  watched 
by  wakeful  people  on  the  slopes  of  laurel-crowned  Alleghanian  hills; 
that  caught  faintly  the  eye  of  revelers — for  it  must  now  be  after  the 
opera— in  New  York ;  that  spoke  a  mysterious  language  to  the  watcher 
upon  the  far  ocean ;  and,  oh,  best  of  all !  that  looked  in  at  a  curtained 
New  England  window  and  saw  a  child  in  peaceful  slumbers.  Little 
daughter  under  the  ancient  elms, — planet  in  the  far  sky, — father  passing 
under  the  massive  shadow  of  gigantic  cliffs  whose  pine-fringed  bulwarks 
are  lost  in  the  thick  gloom  above!  What  an  immeasurable  triangle,  yet 
how  swiftly  does  the  mercury  of  thought  compass  it  and  link  its  points 
together? 


XXIX 
AT  OURAY  AND  RED  MOUNTAIN. 


Bathed  In  the  tenderest  purple  of  distance, 

Tinted  and  shadowed  by  pencils  of  air, 

Thy  battlements  hang  o'er  the  slopes  and  the  forests, 

Seats  of  the  gods  In  the  limitless  ether, 

Looming  sublimely  aloft  and  afar. 

Above  them,  like  folds  of  imperial  ermine, 

Sparkle  the  snowflelds  that  furrow  thy  forehead,— 

Desolate  realms,  inaccessible,  silent, 

Chasms  and  caverns  where  Day  is  a  stranger, 

Garners  where  storeth  his  treasures  the  Thunder, 

The  Lightning  his  falchion,  his  arrows  the  Hail. 

—BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

URAY  is  —  what  shall  I  say?  The  prettiest  mountain 
town  in  Colorado?  That  wouldn't  do.  A  dozen  other 
places  would  deny  it,  and  the  cynics  who  never  saw 
anything  different  from  a  rough  camp  of  cabins  in 
some  quartz  gulch,  would  sneer  that  this  was  faint 
praise.  Yet  that  it  is  among  the  most  attractive  in  sit- 
uation, in  climate,  in  appearance,  and  in  the  society  it  affords,  there  can 
be  no  doubt.  There  are  few  western  villages  that  can  boast  so  much 
civilization. 

Ouray  stands  in  a  bowl-shaped  valley — a  sort  of  broad  pit  in  fact — 
hollowed  out  of  the  northern  flank  of  that  mass  of  mountains  which 
holds  the  fountains  of  so  many  widely  destined  rivers.  A  narrow  notch 
in  the  bowl  southward  lets  the  Uncompahgre  break  through  to  the  IOWT- 
lands,  and  furnishes  us  with  a  means  of  ingress;  otherwise  the  most 
toilsome  climbing  would  be  the  only  way  to  get  into  or  out  of  town. 
From  this  point  diverge  three  or  four  short  but  exceedingly  lofty,  and 
several  lesser  ranges,  like  the  spokes  of  a  wheel  from  its  hub.  East- 
ward stretches  the  continental  divide  of  the  Sierra  San  Juan  proper; 
southward  the  Needles  and  the  circling  heights  that  enclose  Baker's 
park;  westward  the  Sierra  San  Miguel;  northward  the  spurs  of  Uncom- 
pahgre; and  the  diminishing  foothills  and  mesas  that  sink  gradually 
into  the  Gunnison  valley. 

Yet  the  first  comers — it  is  only  seven  years  ago,  but  the  mists  of 
antiquity  seem  to  gather  about  it— did  not  enter  that  way,  but  came 
over  the  range  from  the  south.  Prospectors  for  precious  metals,  they 
ascended  the  Rio  Las  Animas  from  Baker's  park,  until  they  found  its 

278 


THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 


279 


head,  and  stood  upon  the  dividing-  crest  of  the  range.  Here  a  streamlet 
trickled  nortKward,  and  they  followed  its  broadening  current  down  the 
unknown  gorges  into  which  it  sank.  The  walls  were  often  too  steep  to 
allow  any  foothold  for  them,  and  then  they  would  wade  in  the  icy  water 
and  stumble  over  the  slippery  bowlders  that  had  fallen  from  above. 
When  a  dozen  miles  of  this  work  had  been  accomplished,  they  found 

themselves  entering 
a  canon  so  narrow, 
that  by  stretching 
out  their  arms  they 
could  almost  touch 
both  of  its  walls ;  and 
so  irregular  that  a 
few  rods  before  and 
behind  was  all  the 
distance  that  ever 
could  be  seen  at  once. 
Uncertain  when  they 
would  be  brought  to 
a  standstill  by  some 
pool  or  precipitous 
fall,  and  compelled 
to  struggle  back 
against  a  torrent 
which  scarcely  al- 
lowed them  to  move 
downstream  in  safe- 
ty, they  pushed  on 
until  they  suddenly 
emerged  into  a  beau- 
tiful round  valley, 
filled  with  copses  of 
trees  and  sunny 
glades.  In  this  haven 
the.chilled  and  weary 
prospectors  rested 
for  the  night.  While 
one  man — there  were 
no  more  than  three, 
I  believe, — built  the 
fire,  sliced  the  fat  ba- 
con and  molded  the 
bread;  the  second 
went  to  the  river 
with  his  fishing-line, 


280  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

and  the  third  started  out  with  his  gun.  By  the  time  the  bread  was 
baked  the  angler  came  back  with  eighteen  trout  and  the  hunter  returned 
for  help  to  bring  in  a  bear  he  had  killed  within  a  couple  of  hundred 
yards.  So  runs  the  tradition,  and  there  is  no  reason  to  discredit  it. 

Now,  where  the  bear  was  shot  and  the  trout  caught,  stands  a  town  of 
fifteen  hundred  people,  which  forms  the  center  for  supplying  a  wide  cir- 
cuit of  mining  localities,  including  Red  Mountain,  Mt.  Sneffles,  Mineral 
Point  and  Mineral  Farm,  Bear  Creek,  and  half  a  dozen  other  places 
of  lesser  note ;  and  which  affords  a  good  market  for  the  agriculturists 
of  the  lower  valleys,  and  the  cattle  breeders  of  neighboring  mesas. 
Prosperity,  comfort,  and  even  much  luxury  prevail  now;  but  some  of 
the  trials  of  the  earliest  settlers,  beset  by  isolation,  winter,  famine,  and 
the  fear  of  Indians,  would  be  worth  recounting  could  I  have  unlimited 
space. 

This  is  not  a  miner's  guide,  and  nothing  could  be  drier  reading  for  a 
stranger  than  a  catalogue  of  diggings  and  minerals.  The  ores  abound  in 
a  thousand  ledges  which  run  up  and  down,  and  here  aud  there,  all 
through  the  mountains,  from  the  metamorphic  limestones  of  the  outer 
ledges  to  the  storm-hewn  trachyte  that  caps  the  hoary  summits.  What 
I  have  said  concerning  the  ore  of  the  opposite  (southern)  side  of  the  San 
Juan  system  of  mountains,  and  the  way  in  which  it  occurs,  applies  well 
enough  to  this  side  also.  It  could  not  well  be  otherwise,  for  the  age 
and  general  geology  of  the  two  regions  is  as  nearly  alike  as  the  two 
sides  of  the  same  mountain-chain  are  very  likely  to  be.  In  a  word  the 
ores  are  varied,  but  chiefly  ores  of  galena  and  copper,  occurring  in 
fissure  veins  and  carrying  a  "high  grade "  proportion  of  silver  (in  various 
forms)  and  a  considerable  quantity  of  gold.  The  extraordinary  variety 
of  minerals,  and  the  vast  bulk  of  the  ore  deposits  are  the  two  noteworthy 
features  of  the  region.  These  ores,  moreover,  as  a  rule,  are  not  "  refrac- 
tory "  though  containing  antimonial  elements  which  in  an  excess  would 
make  them  so.  Works  for  their  concentration,  i.  e.,  the  sifting  out 
(after  pulverization)  of  the  worthless  vein-matter,  in  order  to  save  the 
expenses  of  transportation,  are  run  to  great  advantage. 

Ouray's  principal  claim  to  our  notice  as  sightseers  lay  in  its  beauti- 
ful situation,  and^he  attractive  bits  of  mountain  scenery  in  its  neighbor- 
hood,—a  collection  of  pictures  which  it  would  be  hard  to  duplicate  in  an 
equally  limited  space  anywhere  else  in  the  whole  Rocky  mountains. 

The  valley  in  which  the  town  is  built  is  at  an  elevation  of  about 
7,500  feet  above  the  sea,  and  is  pear-shaped,  its  greatest  width  being  not 
more  than  half  a  mile  while  its  length  is  about  twice  that  down  to  the 
mouth  of  the  canon.  Southward— that  is  toward  the  heart  of  the  main 
range, — stand  the  two  great  peaks  Hardin  and  Hayden.  Between  is  the 
deep  gorge  down  which  the  Uncompahgre  finds  its  way;  but  this  is 
hidden  from  view  by  a  ridge  which  walls  in  the  town  and  cuts  off  all  the 
farther  view  from  it  in  the  direction,  save  where  the  triangular  top  of 


A  PICTURESQUE  WAGON  ROAD  281 

Mt.  Abrams  peers  over.  Westward  are  grouped  a  series  of  broken 
ledges,  surmounted  by  greater  and  more  rugged  heights.  Down 
between  these  and  the  western  foot  of  Mt.  Hayden  struggles  Canon 
creek  to  join  the  Uncompahgre;  while  Oak  creek  leaps  down  a  line  of 
cataracts  from  a  notch  in  the  terraced  heights  through  which  the  quad- 
rangular head  of  White  House  mountain  becomes  grandly  discernible, — 
the  eastermost  buttress  of  the  wintry  Sierra  San  Miguel. 

All  of  these  mountains,  though  extremely  rugged,  precipitous,  and 
adorned  with  spurs  and  protruding  shoulders  of  naked  rock,  yet  slope 
backward  somewhat,  and  through  one  of  these  depressions  passes  a 
most  remarkable  and  picturesque  wagon  road  to  Silverton,  constructed 
at  immense  cost  and  displaying  wonderful  engineering  skill.  But  at  the 
lower  side  of  the  little  basin,  where  the  path  of  the  river  is  beset  with 
close  canon-walls,  the  cliffs  rise  vertical  from  the  level  of  the  village, 
and  bear  their  forest-growth  many  hundreds  of  feet  above.  These 
mighty  walls,  two  thousand  feet  high  in  some  places,  are  of  metamor- 
phic  rock,  and  their  even  stratification  simulates  courses  of  well-ordered 
masonry.  Stained  by  iron  and  probably  also  by  manganese,  they  are  a 
deep  red-maroon;  this  color  does  not  lie  uniformly,  however,  but  is 
stronger  in  some  layers  than  in  others,  so  that  the  whole  face  of  the  cliff 
is  banded  horizontally  in  pale  rust  color,  or  dull  crimson,  or  deep  and 
opaque  maroon.  The  western  cliff  is  bare,  but  on  the  morj  frequent 
ledges  of  the  eastern  wall  scattered  spruces  grow,  and  add  to  its  attract- 
iveness. Yet,  as  though  Nature  meant  to  teach  that  a  bit  of  motion, — a 
suggestion  of  glee  was  needed  to  relieve  the  sombreness  of  utter  immo- 
bility and  grandeur  however  shapely,  she  has  led  to  the  sunlight  by  a 
crevice  in  the  upper  part  of  the  eastern  wall  that  we  cannot  see,  a  brisk 
torrent  draining  the  snowfields  of  some  distant  plateau.  This  little 
stream,  thus  beguiled  by  the  fair  channel  that  led  it  through  the  spruce 
woods  above,  has  no  time  to  think  of  its  fate,  but  is  flung  out  over  the 
sheer  precipice  eighty  feet  into  the  valley  below.  We  see  the  white 
ghost  of  its  descending,  and  always  to  our  ears  is  murmured  the  voice  of 
the  Naiads  who  are  taking  the  breathless  plunge.  Yet  by  what  means 
the  stream  reaches  that  point  from  above,  cannot  be  seen,  and  the  picture 
is  that  of  a  strong  jet  of  water  bursting  from  an  orifice  through  the 
crimson  wall  and  falling  into  rainbow-arched  mist  and  a  tangle  of  grate- 
ful foliage,  that  hides  its  further  flowing. 

As  Mr.  Weston  well  says,  and  as  I  have  insisted  in  my  chapters 
upon  the  southern  side  of  the  San  Juan  range,  the  indescribable  charm 
of  this  scenery  is  due  not  so  much  to  its  gigantic  proportions,  its  grotesque 
and  massively-grand  outlines,  or  its  variety  of  composition,  as  to  the 
contrasts  of  color  and  condition.  "Even  now  (May)  while  I  write,"  he 
says,  "  it  is  warm  and  summery  in  town,  tho  side  hills  are  covered  with 
flowers  and  the  whistle  of  the  humming  bird's  wing  is  heard  in  the  air; 
yet  I  can  look  up  at  White  House  peak  and  see  the  snow  banners  blow> 
12* 


282  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

ing  from  its  summit,  as  in  the  coldest  day  in  winter.  In  the  autumn, 
more  especially,  are  the  contrasts  of  color  seen,  and  the  landscape,  as 
it  then  appears,  if  painted  on  canvas,  would,  I  believe,  be  laughed  at,  if 
shown  in  Europe  or  the  Eastern  States,  as  an  impossibility.  I  have 
climbed  the  heights  above  Ouray,  and  looked  down  on  it,  when  the 
atmosphere  of  the  valley  seemed  of  a  hazy  blue,  the  sloping  sides  of  the 
surrounding  mountains  being  clothed  with  the  golden  yellow  and  the 
red  brown  of  the  quaking  aspen  and  the  dwarf  oak,  the  varied  greens  of 
the  spruce,  balsam,  cedar  and  yellow  pine,  and  above  that  the  brown 
gray  of  the  trachyte  peaks,  their  snow-capped  summits  forming  a  charm 
ing  contrast  against  the  lovely  violet  blue  of  the  evening  sky." 

This  valley  alone,  with  its  everchanging  panorama  of  summer  and 
winter,  of  verdurous  spring  and  the  noise  of  gushing  waters,  of  flaming 
autumn  and  the  drapery  of  haze  etherializing  the  world,  presenting 
under  always  novel  aspect  the  forms  and  colors  so  lavishly  displayed — 
this  nook  alone  would  satisfy  a  generation  of  artists.  But  the  enchant- 
ment of  the  half  hidden  gorges,  the  allurement  of  the  beckoning  peaks 
urge  us  to  explore  beauties  beyond. 

I  cannot  redescribe  the  way  in  which  these  bristling  peaks  of  purple 
and  green  trachyte  cut  the  tremulous  sky,  nor  try  to  make  you  under- 
stand anew  the  abysses  that  sink  narrowly  between  the  closely  crowded 
mountains.  If  the  reader  will  kindly  turn  back  to  where  I  have  endeav- 
ored to  convey  to  him  some  idea  of  the  Alps  that  lie  about  Baker's  park 
and  at  the  head  of  the  Rio  Dolores  and  the  Rio  de  La  Plata,  he  will 
learn  what  I  might  repeat  of  scenes  this  side  of  the  divide;  for  some 
of  those  former  peaks  can  be  seen  from  here,  and  this,  too,  equally  with 
the  southern  slope,  "is  Silver  San  Juan." 

The  ride  across  the  hills  towards  Red  mountain  was  something  to  be 
remembered  The  great  walls  of  maroon  rock  and  the  precipices  that 
rose  in  terraced  grandeur  upon  their  shoulders,  coming  into  view  one 
by  one  as  we  ascended  from  the  basin  to  the  foothills,  were  all  wet  with 
the  night  dews,  and  gleamed  like  mirrors  under  the  morning  sun.  The 
foothills  themselves  were  rugged  jumbles  of  rocks  heaped  about  the  base 
of  the  mountains,  and  full  of  deep  crevices  where  the  streams  coursed 
far  out  of  sight  and  hearing.  They  were  covered  with  a  mingled  growth 
of  spruces,  cedars,  small  oaks  and  several  other  shrubby  trees.  There 
were  open  spaces  where  a  dense  chapparal  or  heather  of  small  thorny 
bushes  of  various  kinds  hid  the  ground;  and  other  slopes  where  tall 
grass  and  innumerable  flowers  formed  favorite  pastures  for  sedate 
groups  of  donkeys.  Passing  the  dizzy  brink  of  the  chasm  into  which 
Bear  creek  makes  its  awful  leap,  snatching  a  beauty  beyond  portrayal 
from  the  very  jaws  of  terror,  we  enter  a  rank  forest  of  aspens  and 
spruces.  One  might  fire  a  pistol-ball  across  to  the  side  of  Mt.  Hayden, 
•vhich  rises  an  almost  sheer  wall  of  indigo-gray  from  a  gulf  between 


THE  RIDE  ACROSS  THE  HILLS. 


283 


GRAND  CANON  OF  THE  COLORADO. 

us  and  it,  whose  creviced-bottom  is  out  of  sight  below.  Deep  and  varied 
shadows  lie  in  the  little  ravines  that  seam  its  almost  vertical  slopes,  and 
streaks  of  dusty  snow  lurk  in  the  higher  crannies  feeding  trickling 
cascades  of  sunbright  water  that  drop  like  tears  into  the  unfathomed 
canon. 


284  THE  GREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

Through  the  trees  southward,  to  the  right  of  the  triangular  peak  of 
Engineer  mountain,  and  the  great  barrier  of  Abrams,  we  could  now 
catch  a  glimpse  of  a  rounded  summit  as  gaudy  as  the  hat  of  a  cardinal. 
This  was  the  Red  mountain,  of  which  so  much  has  been  heard.  The 
road  there  follows  the  course  of  Red  Mountain  creek  from  its  mouth  for 
two  miles  through  dense  pine  timber.  At  this  point,  four  miles  from 
Ouray,  and  two  thousand  feet  higher,  it  enters  a  flat  valley  or  park  two 
miles  long,  which  is  covered  with  willows  and  with  prairies  of  long 
grass  that  every  autumn  is  mowed  for  hay.  This  park  contains  many 
ponds  and  miry  places,  and  is  said  to  be  underlaid  everywhere  with  bog 
iron-ore.  On  either  side  of  the  park  is  a  high  range  of  mountains 
and  trachyte  peaks,  that  on  the  west  being  the  divide  between  the  Red 
Mountain  district  and  Imogene  basin  in  the  Sneffels  district,  and  that  on 
the  east  being  the  divide  between  the  Red  Mountain  district  and  the 
Uncompahgre  district  and  Poughkeepsie  gulch.  At  the  upper  end  of 
the  park  commences  the  chain  of  scarlet  peaks,  from  twelve  to  thirteen 
thousand  feet  in  altitude,  which  are  regarded  as  the  volcanic  center 
toward  which  all  the  lodes  of  the  surrounding  region  seem  to  converge. 

The  history  of  this  new  "camp,"  Red  Mountain,  is  a  short  one.  In 
the  summer  of  1881  three  men  discovered  the  Guston  mine,  but  as 
the  ore  was  low  grade  it  was  worked  only  because  it  gave  an  excess  of 
lead  which  was  just  then  in  demand  at  the  Pueblo  smelter.  In  August, 
1882,  John  Robinson,  one  of  the  owners,  was  hunting  deer,  and  while 
resting,  carelessly  picked  up  a  small  bowlder,  after  the  manner  of  pros- 
pectors who  never  stop  a  moment  anywhere  but  they  scrutinize  every 
bit  of  stone  within  reach,  out  of  pure  habit.  Astonished  at  the  weight 
of  this  piece  he  broke  it  in  two  and  found  it  to  be  solid  galena.  This 
clue  led  to  the  discovery  of  the  Yankee  Girl  lead  close  by.  A  month 
later  the  owneis  had  sold  the  prospect-hole  for  $125,000,  but  retained 
two  other  apparently  equally  valuable  mines  near  at  hand.  In  the 
Yankee  Girl  rich  ore  was  found  only  a  dozen  feet  below  the  surface; 
and  though  it  had  to  be  packed  upon  mules  and  burros  all  the  way 
down  to  Silverton,  it  yielded  a  profit  of  over  fifty  dollars  a  ton. 

Upon  the  heels  of  this  discovery  there  was  a  great  rush  of  miners 
and  speculators  toward  the  scarlet  heights,  and  several  large  settlements 
— principally  Ironton  and  Red  Mountain  Town  —  sprang  up  on  the 
rough  and  forested  hillside.  Claim  stakes  dotted  the  mountain  as  thick 
as  the  poles  in  a  hop-field,  and  astonishing  success  attended  nearly 
every  digging.  Among  them  all  the  first  lode  opened,  the  Yankee  Girl, 
held  supremacy,  as  is  so  often  the  case;  but  a  few  months  later  a  neigh- 
boring property,  the  National  Belle,  leaped  far  to  the  front  at  a  single 
bound. 

This  occurred  by  the  accident  of  a  workman  breaking  through  the 
tunnel  wall  into  a  cavity.  Hollow  echoes  came  back  from  the  blows  of 
his  pick,  and  stones  thrown  were  heard  to  roll  a  long  distance.  Taking 


A   TREASURE  GA  YE.  28* 

a  candle,  one  of  the  men  descended  and  found  himself  in  an  immense 
natural  chamber,  the  flickering  rays  of  the  light  showing  him  the  vaulted 
roof  far  above,  seamed  with  bright  streaks  of  galena  and  interspersed 
with  masses  of  soft  carbonates,  chlorides  and  pure  white  talc.  On 
different  sides  of  this  remarkable  chamber  were  small  openings  leading 
to  other  rooms  or  chambers,  showing  the  same  wonderful  rich  forma- 
tion. Returning  from  this  brief  reconnoisance  a  party  began  a  regular 
exploration.  They  crept  through  the  narrow  opening  into  an  immense 
natural  tunnel  running  above  and  across  the  route  of  their  working  drift 
for  a  hundred  feet  or  more,  in  which  they  clambered  over  great  bowl- 
ders of  pure  galena,  and  mounds  of  soft  gray  carbonates,  while  the  walls 
and  roof  showed  themselves  a  solid  mass  of  chloride  and  carbonate  ores 
of  silver.  Returning  to  the  starting  point  they  passed  through  another 
narrow  tunnel  of  solid  and  glittering  galena  for  a  distance  of  forty  feet, 
and  found  indications  of  other  large  passages  and  chambers  beyond. 
"  It  would  seem,"  cries  the  local  editor  in  his  account  of  this  romantic 
disclosure,  "as  though  Nature  had  gathered  her  choice  treasures  from 
her  inexhaustible  storehouse,  and  wrought  these  tunnels,  natural  stop- 
ping places  and  chambers,  studded  with  glittering  crystals  and  bright 
mineral  to  dazzle  the  eyes  of  man  in  after  ages,  and  lure  him  on  to  other 
treasures  hidden  deeper  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth.  .  .  The  news  of 
the  discovery  spread  like  wildfire,  and  crowds  came  to  see  the  sight, 
and  to  many  of  them  it  was  one  never  to  be  forgotten." 

This  was  only  the  first  of  these  surprises,  for  many  cavities  have 
since  been  divulged,  great  and  small,  in  each  of  which  crude  wealth  had 
been  locked  up  since  the  world  was  made.  The  character  of  the  ores, 
the  occurrence  of  these  cavities,  and  the  extremely  short  distances 
beneath  the  turf  at  which  rich  ore  is  struck,  have  combined  to  cause 
much  discussion  among  geologists  as  to  the  true  history  of  the  district. 

One  of  the  most  striking  scenes  in  the  neighborhood  of  Ouray  is 
the  passage  through  which  Canon  creek  makes  its  way  down  to  join  the 
Uncompahgre  just  above  the  village.  A  wild  and  interesting  gorge 
leads  upward  toward  the  western  foot  of  Mt.  Hayden,  the  trail  carrying 
one  along  the  edge  of  a  little  cliff,  and  the  walls  rapidly  contracting  so 
that  little  room  is  left  even  for  the  foot-trail.  A  quarter  of  a  mile, 
perhaps  less,  above  the  village,  these  walls  suddenly  close  together,  and 
the  steep,  brush-grown  slope,  is  lost  in  a  lofty  crag,  towering  far  above 
the  tallest  spruces,  and  standing  squarely  across  the  gorge.  In  this 
escarpment  a  zigzag  crevice  shows  itself  extending  from  top  to  bottom : 
at  the  top  you  may  look  some  distance  within  it,  but  at  the  foot  the  pro- 
truding masses  on  one  side,  the  sharp  curve  on  the  opposite,  and  the 
deep  shadows,  never  illumined  by  the  highest  sun,  shut  off  all  searching 
by  the  eye.  Out  of  this  narrow,  upright,  cave-like  crevice,  as  though 
from  its  original  strong  fountains,  gushes  the  deep  and  turbulent  stream, 


286  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

cold  as  ice  and  sparkling  with  a  million  imprisoned  bubbles  of  air.  Get 
as  near  as  you  can  to  its  aperture — crane  your  head  around  the  very 
corner  of  these  mountain  water-gates,  and  you  can  see  nothing  but  dark 
ness,  in  which  only  the  outlines  of  the  nearest  irregularities  in  the  rocky 
walls  are  dimly  defined,  while  the  beetling  ledges  above  shut  out  the 
narrow  line  of  sky  that  might  be  seen  were  the  sides  of  the  canon 
smooth.  Retreating  down  stream  a  little  way,  you  look  past  bright  pil- 
lars of  rosy  quartzite,  across  the  glittering  pathway  of  foam  necked 
water,  glorying  in  its  escape,  up  to  the  lofty  gates  and  the  shadowy 
crevice  between,  whence  the  river  comes  ceaselessly  and  with  singing; 
you  note  the  color-touches  of  the  flowers  and  blossoming  vines;  the  soft 
hangings  of  the  ferns  under  the  damp  ledges,  the  emerald  foliage  of  the 
poplar  standing  bravely  beneath  the  shadow  of  the  cliffs  and  the  darker 
forms  of  giant  spruces — you  see  this  contrast  of  brightness  and  color 
and  sunshine  just  without  the  damp  glooin  of  the  mysterious  portals; 
and  you  tell  yourself  that  there  are  few  scenes  in  the  Rockies  that  can 
equal  it. 

There  is  a  roundabout  way  to  get  to  the  top  of  these  cliffs  and  look 
down  into  the  chasm;  and  at  one  point,  where  it  is  much  more  than  one 
hundred  feet  in  depth,  a  person  may  easily  step  across  from  edge  to 
edge.  Though  it  would  probably  be  impossible  in  the  lowest  stage  of 
water  to  make  one's  way  up  from  below  against  the  swift  flood  that  fills 
the  whole  width  of  the  chasm,  yet  by  going  above  it  is  possible  to  work 
your  waj  down  stream  for  a  long  distance  into  the  crevice.  A  cave 
exists  there,  entered  at  the  surface  of  the  water,  and  occasional  picnic 
parties  are  made  up  to  go  to  it.  These  consist  mainly  of  young  people 
whom  age  has  not  sobered,  for  during  the  latter  part  of  the  way  it  is 
needful  that  the  gentlemen  wading  should  carry  the  ladies  across  fre- 
quent portages — to  borrow  a  word  from  a  reverse  custom.  The  cave 
entrance  at  the  water  side  is  only  an  ante-chamber  to  the  real  cavern. 
To  reach  that  a  ladder  and  rope  is  required,  by  which  the  men  first 
ascend  to  a  second  higher  chamber  and  then  draw  the  ladies  up.  The 
entrance  is  a  hatchway  so  narrow  that  portly  persons  have  been  known 
to  express  fears  as  to  their  getting  through. 

Both  cave  and  canon  are  eaten  out  of  the  limestone,  and  several 
cnasms  of  the  same  sort  occur  upon  this  and  neighboring  streams, 
where  the  water  flowing  along  the  strike  of  the  upturned  strata,  has  cut 
into  it  a  narrow  channel  between  walls  of  more  resisting  rock.  Along 
Portland  creek,  just  above  the  village,  Tuch  a  canon  is  to  be  visited,  con- 
taining many  beautiful  cascades,  where  the  canon  walls  do  not  rise 
vertically  but  at  a  considerable  slant,  one  leaning  over  the  other,  and  the 
stream  ever  edging  sidewise  as  it  cuts  deeper  and  deeper.  The  erosion 
in  these  cases  is  not  accomplished  so  much  by  attrition,  as  by  a  chemical 
decomposition  of  the  limestone.  Yet  attrition  must  do  a  great  work  at 
times;  for  now  and  then  these  purling  brooks  become  the  channels  for 


GRAND   CANON,    FROM  TO-RO-WASF. 


288  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

cloudbursts  at  their  sources,  and  then  a  mighty  and  impetuous  flood 
hurls  itself  down  the  gorge  and  chokes  the  bursting  canons  with  an 
unmeasured  mass  of  water  and  detritus,  whose  weight  and  velocity  are 
so  great,  however,  that  the  flood  of  water  not  only,  but  thousands  of 
tons  of  bowlders  and  rocky  fragments  are  forced  through  and  spread  out 
in  the  valley  below.  Every  such  a  deluge  leaves  its  marks  plainly  upon 
the  sides  of  the  canons,  as  well  as  upon  the  softer  banks  outside. 

It  was  in  the  afternoon  that  I  mounted  the  coach  homeward  bound, 
and  bade  good  bye  to  a  host  of  pleasant  acquaintances.  I  felc  rather 
guilty.  I  had  stayed  longer  than  I  intended,  and  had  had  a  much  better 
time  than  I  had  anticipated.  I  felt  somehow,  therefore,  as  though  I 
defrauded  the  Madame  and  Chum  out  of  a  pleasurable  opportunity 
and  I  resolved  to  note  more  carefully  whatever  I  might  see  that  was 
delightful. 

The  gap  in  the  great  red  cliffs  which  lets  the  river  and  us  out  to  the 
lowlands  is  only  two  or  three  hundred  yards  in  width,  and  is  filled  with 
a  dense  growth  of  trees.  The  river  trickles  as  a  narrow,  winding  stream 
through  a  broad  swath  of  pebbles  that  it  has  swept  down,  and  which 
annually  it  overflows.  The  lofty  cliffs  stand  on  each  side,  erect  and 
imposing.  Theirs  were  the  massive  forms  seen  dimly  in  the  darkness 
and  enveloping  us  in  inky  shadows  when  we  came  up  at  midnight. 
Their  irregularities  break  into  new  forms  of  picturesqueness  as  we  roll 
past,  enchanting  our  eyes.  Three  or  four  miles  below  town  the  thick 
growth  of  trees  in  the  bottom  and  on  the  ledges  thins  out,  while  the 
valley  grows  wider,  and  ranches  begin  to  appear.  Pleasan':  houses,  sur- 
rounded by  trees,  stand  in  the  midst  of  wide  fields  of  grain  and  low-lying 
meadows  of  natural  hay.  The  cliffs  still  rise  hundreds  of  feet  high  and 
are  redder  even  than  those  above,  —  as  brightly  vermillioned  as  the 
crest  of  the  treasure-mountain  I  have  compared  to  a  cardinal's  hat. 
Those  on  the  eastern  side  (we  are  heading  squarely  northward)  are 
sparsely  wooded  with  spruces  and  cedars  that  get  a  foothold  on  the 
rocky  shelves  and  lean  outward  craving  the  light ;  those  on  the  left  are 
almost  bare,  even  of  herbage. 

It  is  said  that  Uncompahgre  in  the  Ute  tongue,  means  "  red  stream," 
and,  if  so,  it  is  easy  to  understand  the  application.  The  water  is  not 
red  (though  it  might  sometimes  look  so  when  roiled  by  freshets,)  but  the 
whole  canon  is  crimson  and  blood-stained.  The  color  shines  between 
bushes  and  trees,  stands  out  in  great  upright  masses,  tinges  the  dust 
underfoot,  and  intensifies  both  the  green  of  the  heathery  hills  and  the 
azure  of  mountain  and  sky. 

At  Dallas  Station,  where  the  Dallas  river  comes  down  from  the  west 
into  the  Uncompahgre,  we  stopped  to  get  supper  and  wait  for  the  stage 
from  Telluride,  Rico,  Anies,  and  the  other  mining  towns  in  the  San 
Miguel  range,  whose  outlet  is  this  way.  Those  mountains  were  in  plain 
view  —  Sneffles,  Potosi,  and  all  their  peers,  —  glorified  in  the  sunset; 


A  RIDE  AFTER  NIGHTFALL.  289 

while  away  in  the  eastward  could  be  seen  the  gashed  and  splintered 
peaks  of  that  quartzite  group  (here  called  the  Sawtooth,  but  reckoned 
on  the  maps  as  part  of  the  Uncompahgre  range)  the  outline  of  which 
I  can  only  compare  to  the  jagged  confusion  of  the  broken  bottles  set 
along  the  top  of  a  stone  wall. 

It  is  dark  when  we  leave  Dallas  and  darker  in  the  gloom  of  the 
mesa  shadows  and  under  the  shrubbery  that  overhangs  the  road  along 
the  high  river  bank.  Out  of  the  blackness  below  came  up  the  sound  of 
the  river's  fretting  as  from  a  nether  world,  for  we  could  only  now  and 
then  get  a  glimpse  of  the  shaded  water.  When  this  had  been  passed,  how- 
ever, and  we  were  going  at  a  steady  trot  across  the  wide-reaching  and 
starlit  uplands,  it  was  very  delightful.  The  air  was  cool  and  soft  and 
drowsy.  The  stars  shone  with  that  brilliance  which  long  ago  suggested 
to  the  savage  mind  that  they  were  pin-holes  in  the  canopy  through 
which  beamed  the  ineffable  refulgence  of  an  endless  day  to  be  attained 
when  the  probation  of  this  life  was  over.  Every  moment  or  two  a 
meteor  would  leap  out,  flash  with  pale  brilliance  across  the  firmament, 
eclipsing  the  steady  stars  for  an  instant,  and  then  disappear  as  though 
behind  a  veil.  Sleepy  cattle,  resting  in  the  dust,  would  rise  with  heavy 
lurchings  to  get  out  of  our  way  and  stupidly  stare  at  us  as  we  swung 
past.  The  "watch  dog's  honest  bark  "  came  to  our  ears  from  ranches, 
whose  position  we  knew  by  a  dot  of  yellow  light;  ghostly  forms  would 
quickly  resolve  themselves  into  the  white  hoods  of  freight  wagons,  their 
poles  piled  with  harness  and  their  crews  asleep  underneath ;  faint  rust- 
lings in  the  sage-bush  told  of  disturbed  birds  and  rabbits;  and  so,  peace- 
fully and  enjoyably,  midnight  brought  us  to  our  journey's  end. 


XXX 

MONTROSE  AND  DELTA. 


My  father  left  a  park  to  me, 

But  it  is  wild  and  barren, 
A  garden  too  with  scarce  a  tree, 

And  waster  than  a  warren; 
Yet  say  the  neighbors  when  they  call, 

It  is  not  bad  but  good  land. 
And  in  it  is  the  germ  of  all 

That  grows  within  the  woodland. 

— TENNYSON. 

HE  compassion  I  had  been  feeling  for  probable  ennui 
endured  by  the  two  who  hud   been  left  behind   at 
Montrose  was  quite  unnecessary.     They  had  amused 
themselves  very  well  during  my  prolonged  absence. 
"  Montrose  is  better  than  it  looks,"  they  told  me. 
"  But  what  did  you  do?  "  I  asked. 
"Well,  we  studied  the  situation,"  said  Chum,  who  is  becoming 
thirsty  for  knowledge  in  these  latter  days.     "  And  we  got  acquainted 
with  some  very  pleasant  people,  who  told  us  good  stories,  and  took  us 
out  riding  and  lent  us  books." 

"Yes,"  said  the  Madame,  "in  one  of  our  rides  we  went  up  to  the 
camp." 
"Eh!" 

"  And  heard  how  you  spent  a  whole  day  there  doing  nothing  but 
playing  billiards  with  the  officers.    Do  you  call  that  being  industrious?  " 
"Well,"  I  began. 

"No,  it  is  not  well  at  all;  at  any  rate  you  might  have  told  me,  and 
not  made  believe  you  only  saw  the  camp  by  passing  through.  And  we 
heard  all  about  that  hop  in  Ouray.  You  forgot  that,  too,  didn't  you? 
The  people  were  greatly  surprised  to  learn  you  were  not  a  gay  young 
bachelor.  It  was  three  o'clock  in  the  morning  before  you  went  home." 
"  Oh,  Oh-h! "  groans  Chum. 

"  ' Pon  honor,  it  wasn't,"  I  protest.     "It  was  only  two." 
"Only  two!    Well,  the  next  time  you  go  to  Ouray  I'm  going  with 
you." 

Chum  sings: 

"Now  is  the  time  for  disappearing,  *  and  takes  a  header  out  of  the 
side  door.  It  is  my  cue  to  follow  suit,  but  instead  the  Madame  picks  up 
her  parasol  and  sails  out  with  dignity.  She  wouldn't  make  a  bad  figure 

290 


TALL   TIMBER.  291 

in  the  Lancers,  I  think,  as  she  closes  the  door.  I  had  intended  to  do 
some  writing  before  the  time  came  to  pursue  our  journey,  but  I  don't 
feel  like  it  now  and  pick  up  Felix  Holt  and  a  cigar.  Presently  the  two 
return  in  high  good  humor  over  some  joke,  and  luncheon  is  ordered  and 
eaten  amid  a  f  usilade  of  chattered  nonsense. 

Betweentimes  I  extract  bits  of  information  in  regard  to  Montrose 
and  its  neighborhood.  The  town  is  the  center  of  a  very  large  agri- 
cultural district.  It  supplies  all  of  the  valley  of  the  Uncompahgre  as 
far  south  as  Dallas  creek,  and  westward  nearly  to  Delta;  while  north- 
ward its  bailiwick  extends  over  to  widely  scattered  but  numerous  settlers 
on  the  North  Fork  of  the  Gunnison  and  its  tributaries.  A  glance  at  the 
map  will  show  the  reader  that  a  great  number  of  small  streams  come 
down  from  the  mountains  lying  north  of  the  Gunnison,  and  of  its  North 
Fork,  to  feed  those  trunk-streams.  The  mountains  themselves,  and  the 
spurs  that  stretch  down  between  the  creeks  are  rocky,  sterile,  and  too 
cold  for  farming;  but  in  the  valleys  where  the  descent  is  always  rapid, 
water  is  easily  led  aside  in  irrigating  ditches,  and  the  soil  is  invariably 
found  to  be  rich  and  responsive.  Throughout  these  remote  creek-sides, 
then,  a  large  farming  and  stock-raising  population  has  already  settled 
itself ;  and  though  out  of  sight,  it  forms  a  large  element  in  the  class  of 
buyers  for  whom  the  merchant  at  the  railway  station  must  provide. 
Those  living  on  the  lower  part  of  the  North  Fork  trade  at  Delta. 

Lately  coal  has  been  found  within  half  a  dozen  miles  of  town,  and 
veins  of  great  thickness  and  soundness  are  being  opened  in  several 
places  by  Montrose  men,  who  can  sell  it  much  cheaper  than  it  has 
hitherto  been  brought  from  Crested  Butte.  At  Cimmaron,  about  twelve 
miles  from  Montrose,  coal  of  very  good  quality  occurs  in  great  abun- 
dance, and  is  being  mined.  On  the  mesas,  surrounding  Montrose, 
grows  timber  of  unusual  size  and  importance,  and  nearly  all  the  large 
sticks — some  forty-four  feet  in  length, — used  by  the  railway  in  the  con- 
struction of  bridges  on  this  half  of  the  line,  were  derived  from  those 
forests  of  yellow  pine.  Several  sawmills,  each  a  nucleus  of  small  set- 
tlements, buy  and  sell  at  Montrose.  Local  cattle-owners  make  the  town 
their  headquarters,  the  herds  ranging  on  the  upland  pastures  within  a 
few  miles.  The  cattle  business  in  this  region  has  just  begun,  but  every- 
thing proves  so  favorable  that  great  expectations  are  entertained  of  it  as 
a  source  of  wealth.  The  object  is  to  raise  fat  beef  for  local  markets,  and 
Durham  blood  is  being  introduced  to  raise  the  grade  of  the  native  stock. 
The  Cimmaron  range,  the  heights  beyond  the  North  Fork  and  the 
Uncompahgre  mesa,  supply  the  chief  ranges  at  present.  A  good  many 
people  are  employed  at  Montrose,  also,  in  the  forwarding  business, — 
that  is,  the  re-loading  of  merchandise  and  other  goods  into  the  huge 
trailed  wagons  which  they  used  to  call  "prairie  schooners"  on  the 
plains,  to  be  dragged  away  to  the  mountain  mining  camps.  Finally, 
the  town  is  the  county  seat. 


292 


THE  CREST  OP  THE  CONTINENT. 


EXPLORING  THE  WALLS. 


While  these  re- 
sources  are  all  of  im- 
portance Montrose 
depends  mainly 
upon  the  farming 
which  she  says  is  to 
make  her  valley  and 
the  dun-colored  me- 
sas, "blossom  as  the 
rose." 

"They  tell  me," 
says  Chum,  "and 
they  prove  it,  too, 
that  there  is  nothing 
you  cannot  raise  here 
short  of  tropical 
fruits,  and  they're 
not  quite  sure  about 
that,  for  they  propose 
peaches,  nectarines, 
and  apricots.  And 
as  for  grain,  great 
Injuns!  why  I  saw 
stalks  of  oats  as  big 
as  a  walking-stick, 
and  stems  of  barley 
that  looked  like  gun- 
barrels." 

The  Madame 
raises  her  eyebrows 
and  coughs  slightly, 
but  I  take  no  notice. 

'  'And  as  for  wheat, 
sir, — wheat?  why  it's 
immense!  Thirty- 
five  and  forty  bush- 
els to  the  acre  is  the 
regular  yield,  and  of 
oats  they  will  pro- 
duce fifty  or  sixty 
bushels,  and  of  bar- 
ley  eighty  or  ninety. 
As  for  corn,  I  forget 
the  figures,  but  when 
we  go  down  the  road 
this  afternoon  you'll 


A  FERTILE    VALLEY.  293 

see  great  green  fields  of  it  that'll  make  you  think  you're  back  on 
the  banks  of  the  Wabash.  There  isn't  anything  they  can't  raise  in  these 
bottoms,  where  they  have  more  water  than  they  know  what  to  do  with, 
and  it  '11  be  only  a  few  years  before  this  whole  great  patch  of  grease- 
wood  and  chalk  will  be  verdant  with— with  potatoes  and  corn." 

It  was  a  bit  of  a  break,  but  when  this  young  man  gets  a  fair  grip 
upon  poetry  he  don't  let  go  so  easy.  He  frowned  down  the  suspicion  of 
a  smile  round  the  corner  of  our  eyes,  and  rising  to  his  feet,  continued: 

"  I  tell  you,  sir,  in  five  years  from  now  the  people  of  this  favored 
spot  can  say  in  the  words  of  the  immortal  singer — speaking  historically, 
of  course,  you  understand — can  say, 

"  Behind,  they  saw  the  snow-cloud  tossed 

By  many  an  icy  horn" 

******** 
"Before,  warm  valleys,  wood-embossed 
And  green  with  vines — 

(watermelons,  squashes,  pumpkins,  hops,  morning  glories,  grapes, 
strawberries,  parsley,  honeysuckles — I  've  seen  'em  all !) 

**^and  corn." 

We  exploded  with  laughter,  and  even  the  enthusiastic  orator  smiled 
grimly  as  he  sat  down. 

"  May  be  Mr.  Whittier  wouldn't  have  seen  so  much  poetry  in  the 
way  I  used  his  words,  but  I  tell  you  Montrose  knows  there's  a  heap  of 
truth  in  it." 

"Yes,  no  doubt.  But  how  about  the  'icy  horn' — these  high  and 
dry  benches  up  here?  " 

"Well,  they  say  the  very  strongest  and  most  productive  soil  of  all  is 
on  those  same  gravelly  mesas.  It's  lighter  and  different  from  the  saline 
clays  of  the  bottoms.  Now,  over  there  " — pointing  to  the  great  upland, 
which  lay  elevated  a  hundred  feet  or  so  above  the  river  on  the  southern 
side  of  the  Uncompahgre — "lies  a  mesa  that  contains  about  twenty-two 
thousand  acres.  Then  down  below,  at  the  mouth  of  the  river,  is 
another  stretch  just  twice  as  large.  All  that  is  needful  to  make  that 
productive  farming  land  is  water.  A  company  here  is  building  a  canal 
which  will  be  twenty-seven  miles  long  and  will  cost  a  hundred  thousand 
dollars.  It  takes  the  water  out  of  the  Uncompahgre  away  up  by  the 
Cantonment,  leads  it  along  the  foot  of  the  wooded  bluffs  behind  the 
mesa,  and  can  furnish  enough  to  water  the  whole  expanse.  If  you  have 
a  farm  there,  all  you  have  to  do  is  to  select  half  a  mile  square  or  so 
— there's  heaps  of  it  left  untouched  as  yet, — pay  $1.25  an  acre,  dig  side 
ditches  and  draw  as  much  water  as  you  need  at  so  much  an  inch  rental 
from  the  company.  That's  going  to  make  one  vast  wheat-field." 

"I  see,  but  what  next?  " 

"  Well,  by  the  time  your  wheat  is  grown  there  will  be  mills  here  to 


294  THE  GRE8T  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

grind  it.  There  is  one  now  at  Montrose  which  will  make  from  seventy- 
five  to  one  hundred  barrels  of  flour  per  day,  and  when  the  crops  get 
ahead  of  it  other  mills  will  be  built.  This  is  not  poetry  and  fancy  and 
talk;  it  is  a  settled  fact,  for  the  soil  has  been  tried  in  more  places  than 
one,  and — but,  hello !  there  's  our  train  1 " 

Precipitately  retreating  to  our  "parlor,"  we  don  our  dusters  and  go 
steaming  down  toward  Grand  Junction. 

The  mountains  whence  I  have  just  come  lift  their  snow-embroidered 
heights  grandly  to  the  sky,  and  I  can  point  out  nearly  all  the  separate 
peaks  though  they  are  fifty  miles  away. 

"You  should  have  seen  that  long~hill-range 

With  gaps  of  brightness  riven — 
How  through  each  pass  and  hollow  streamed 
The  purpling  lights  of  heaven — 

"  Bivers  of  golden-mist  flowing  down 

From  far  celestial  fountains, — 
The  great  sun  flaming  through  the  rifts 
Beyond  the  wall  of  mountains." 

On  the  right,  extended  a  long  line  of  bluffs,  close  at  hand,  sprinkled 
with  cedars  between  which  the  brick-red  soil  showed  queerly.  The 
strata  in  the  base  of  these  bluffs  were  yellowish  white  and  had  been  cut 
by  water  into  a  series  of  little  knolls  and  spurs  like  sand-dunes  and 
equally  bare  of  vegetation.  They  were  hot,  desolate,  and  glaring. 

The  train  ran  along  the  edge  of  the  bottom-lands  of  which  these 
bluffs  were  the  boundary,  and  on  the  left  stretched  a  continuous  line  of 
farms  watered  from  the  river  which  was  hidden  in  a  distant  grove  of 
cottonwoods.  That  the  land  was  rich  was  shown  not  only  by  the  flour- 
ishing fields  of  grain,  and  of  Indian  corn,  but  by  the  luxuriance  of 
sagebrush  and  greasewood  in  the  uncultivated  spaces.  This  was  the 
Uncompahgre  we  were  following,  and  at  Delta,  where  the  bottom-lands 
spread  out  into  a  spacious  plain,  we  reached  its  junction  with  the  Gun- 
nison,  and  passed  to  its  right  bank  over  a  long  bridge. 

Dominating  everything  here  to  the  northward  is  that  vast  plateau, 
protected  from  decay  by  its  roofing  of  lava  over  the  softer  substances 
that  make  its  bulk,  which  forms  the  watershed  between  the  Gunnison 
and  the  Grand  rivers,  and  is  called  the  Grand  Mesa.  We  know  that  its 
surface  is  hilly  and  rough,  but  from  here  and  everywhere  else,  its  edge, 
as  far  as  can  be  seen,  cuts  the  sky  with  a  perfectly  straight  and  even 
line  as  though  it  were  as  level  on  top  as  a  table.  In  color  it  appears 
dark  crimson  above  the  brown  and  green  of  mingled  forest  and  exposed 
rocks  that  cover  its  lower  front.  Looking  past  it,  up  the  river,  we  can 
see  the  snowy  Elks,  and  a  line  of  rails  is  surveyed  from  Crested  Butte 
right  down  to  this  point  through  a  series  of  canons.  There  is  little 
opportunity  for  farming  below  the  mouth  of  the  Uncompahgre,  where 
abrupt  walls  of  red  sandstone  shut  in  the  river,  and  sometimes  hem  it 


NATURE'S  MASONRY.  295 

so  closely  that  a  road  bed  had  to  be  blasted  out  of  the  cliff.  The  river 
has  grown,  since  we  saw  it  last  in  the  Black  canon,  to  be  a  hundred 
yards  wide.  It  still  flows  deeply  and  swiftly,  but  has  lost  the  cataracts. 
Its  color,  too,  after  so  much  contact  with  loose  earth,  has  changed  from 
green  to  turbid  yellow.  The  run  along  its  banks  is  straight  and  swift. 
Generally  the  track  is  laid  just  at  the  brink,  upon  the  solid  rock,  and  the 
river  is  occasionally  crossed  upon  admirable  bridges.  One  of  these 
bridges,  I  remember,  is  at  a  place  where  enormous  cliffs  of  carmine- 
tinted  sandstone  most  curiously  worn  full  of  little  pits  and  round  holes 
as  though  moth-eaten,  rise  sheer  from  the  water  to  a  great  height.  The 
strata  of  these  cliffs  —  which  also  have  bands  of  yellow  —  wear  away 
unequally  but  always  in  a  rounded  shape,  so  that  you  can  see  them 
edgewise,  as  at  a  bend,  the  protuberances  take  .the  form  of  "volutes; 
and  this  will  continue  for  long  distances  unchanged,  as  if  the  cliff  had 
been  adorned  with  gigantic  beads  of  molding.  It  is  one  of  the  most 
interesting  stages  of  the  whole  journey. 

Just  east  of  the  Grand  are  the  finest  cliffs  of  all, — great  piles  of 
ponderous  masonry,  fit  for  the  bulwarks  of  a  world,  each  massive  block, 
a  hundred  feet  or  so  square,  set  firmly  upon  its  underlying  tier,  and  the 
whole  rising  two  or  three  thousand  feet  in  majestic  proportions  and  col- 
ors that  please  by  their  softness  and  harmony.  Past  these  we  roll  slowly 
out  upon  the  longest  bridge  in  the  state — 950  feet— spanning  the  swift 
yellow  flood  of  the  Grand  river  just  abov»  *iitire  the  Gu&nison  enters, 
and  find  ourselves  at  Grand  Junction, 


XXXI 

THE  GRAND  RIVER  VALLEY. 


As  a  true  patriot,  I  should  be  ashamed  to  think  that  Adam  in  Paradise  was  more 
favorably  situated,  on  the  whole,  than  a  backwoodsman  in  this  country. 

— THOREATJ. 

VERY  honest  little  circular — quite  a  phenomenon  among 
prospectuses — had  come  into  our  hands,  which  gave  in 
terse  language  the  claims  that  Grand  Junction  made  to 
the  notice  of  the  world  and  upon  the  attention  of  the 
man  who  was  looking  for  a  place  of  residence  in  western 
Colorado.  This  honest  little  circular,  toward  its  end, 
contains  the  following  paragraph: 

We  desire,  however,  to  inform  all  eastern  people  who  may  be  think- 
ing of  coming  west,  that,  while  this  is  one  of  the  most  productive  valleys 
in  Colorado,  it  is  anything  but  this  in  appearance  now.  Excepting 
along  the  banks  of  the  streams  or  near  them,  there  is  probably  not  a 
tree  to  be  seen  in  the  valley,  unless  it  was  planted  since  the  valley  was 
settled,  or  within  the  past  eighteen  months.  The  soil  has  a  dull  grayish 
appearance,  with  hardly  a  blade  of  grass  growing  in  it  for  several  miles 
back  from  the  river,  and  it  produces  naturally  only  sagebrush  and 
grease  wood.  It  is  uninviting  and  desolate  looking  in  the  extreme,  and 
yet  it  is  far  from  being  so  in  reality.  We  are  thus  explicit  in  speaking 
of  the  desolate  appearance  of  the  country,  so  that  no  homesick  wanderer 
in  this  far-off  western  land  will  say  when  his  heart  fails  him  in  looking 
over  our  valley,  that  he  has  been  deceived,  and  that  all  that  has  been  said 
of  Grand  Junction  and  its  surrounding  country  is  a  delusion  and  a  snare. 
If  the  reader  of  this  lives  in  the  east,  he  will  almost  surely  be  disap 
pointed  at  first,  if  he  comes  out  here.  It  will  be  the  disappointment  of 
ignorance  though,  for  it  is  only  a  man  who  is  ignorant  of  the  productive 
ness  of  this  country  who  will  refuse  to  believe  what  is  said  of  it  in  this 
respect. 

That  paragraph  put  us  upon  our  metal.  We  were  eastern  people 
undoubtedly,  but  then  we  had  seen  "a  heap"  of  Colorado,  and  the 
word  "ignorance,"  we  would  not  confess  applied  in  our  case.  It  was 
therefore  with  no  little  curiosity,  and  something  of  a  resolution  to  be 
pleased  anyhow  (since  we  had  been  told  we  might  not  be,)  that  we 
detached  our  peripatetic  home  and  slipped  into  a  resting-place  upon 
the  customary  siding.  The  glow  of  the  sunset  filled  the  valley  with  a 
blaze  of  yellow  light,  and  the  mesas  wore  chevrons  of  indigo  shadow  and 
pink  light  to  the  northward,  while  the  scarred  bluffs  across  the  Grand 
reflected  the  last  rays  from  burning  crests  of  red  sandstone.  Weary 
with  travel  we  threw  open  our  doors,  brushed  and  dusted  and  bathed, 

296 


WAITING  TO  LEARN. 


297 


CASTLE    GATE 

while  the  kitchen  was  busy,  and  then  sat  down  to  dinner  in  the  cool  soft 
air  of  the  twilight.  When  it  was  over  a  multitude  of  twinkling  lights 
alone  showed  where  the  town  lay,  and  so  we  left  until  morning  learning 
more  about  it. 

When  we  came  to  the  learning,  there  were  persons  enough  to  teach 
us,  besides  all  the  explicit  information  Mr.  William  E.  Pabor  and  others 
have  put  into  type  about  the  new  town  —  the  western  Denver,  the 
metropolis  of — 

"  Did  n't  we  hear  Gunnison  called  that,  too?  and  Montrose?  and — ?'' 


298  THE  GREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

asks  the  Madame,  whose  serious  mind  can  never  quite  become  accus- 
tomed to  local  flowers  of  speech. 

Undoubtedly  we  had;  but  who  shall  say  which  one  of  them,  a  cen- 
tury from  now,  shall  not  deserve  the  name?  Describe  it?  That  would 
be  merely  repetition.  Situated,  as  I  have  said,  in  the  midst  of  a  level 
sage-plain,  utterly  treeless,  it  is  an  orderly  jumble  of  brick  buildings, 
frame  buildings,  log  cabins,  tents,  and  vacant  spaces.  It  is  South 
Pueblo  or  Salida  or  Durango,  or  Gunnison  of  two  years  ago  over  again. 
The  more  important  question  to  be  answered,  is,  why  is  a  town  built 
here  at  all?  It  is  here  in  anticipation  of  the  agricultural  productions  of 
the  valley  by  which  it  is  surrounded,  water  for  the  irrigation  of  which  is 
supplied  by  the  largest  river  in  Colorado,  and  therefore  inexhaustible. 

A  year  before  the  railway  came,  speculators,  chiefly  from  Ruby  and 
Irwin,  who  had  no  dread  of  loneliness,  went  to  this  point  and  started 
the  town.  "They  staked  off  several  ranches,"  says  the  report,  "and 
located  one  irrigating  ditch  and  a  town  site."  This  town,  which  they 
called  Granville,  is  situated  across  the  Grand  from  the  mouth  of  the 
Gunnison.  A  town  site  was  afterwards  staked  by  the  Crawford  party, 
and  given  the  name  of  Grand  Junction. 

That  is  the  way  these  marvelously  new  and  flourishing  towns  are 
started  out  here.  They  reverse  the  proverb  and  may  be  said  to  be  made 
not  born;  or,  as  Chum  puts  it,  fititur  non  nasce.  I  could  n't  have  done 
that,  but  it  was  easy  enough  for  Chum  who  has  been  to  college ;  he 
don't  mind  a  little  gymnastics  in  Latin  like  that. 

In  the  mountains  dividing  Middle  park  from  North  park  the  clus- 
tering streamlets  pour  steadily  into  Grand  lake,  whose  surface  is  rarely 
free  from  gusts  of  chilling  wind  or  the  shadow  of  gathering  storms. 
Hidden  in  heavy  forests,  it  occupies  a  basin  scooped  out  by  the  mighty 
plow  of  a  glacier  and  held  back  by  moraines  and  montonnes  that  record  a 
geological  history  of  the  utmost  interest  to  the  student.  About  this 
solitary  lake  gather  gloomy  traditions  of  fierce  warfare  between  Ute  and 
Arapahoe,  and  since  the  Indian  owners  have  yielded  it  to  the  white 
men,  one  of  the  darkest  crimes  in  the  history  of  the  Rockies  has  hap- 
pened upon  its  shores. 

From  this  dark  mountain-tara  flows  a  strong  outlet  fed  by  the  snows. 
Its  whole  youth  lies  in  the  depths  and  gloom  of  canons,  for  range  after 
range  open  their  gates  to  let  it  pass,  but  the  gates  are  narrow  and  the 
pathway  rough.  Thus  this  river,  constantly  recruited,  more  and  more 
the  Grand,  fights  its  way  from  the  center  almost  to  the  western  edge 
of  the  state.  There,  when  its  labor  is  fairly  done,  and  aid  is  no  longer 
needed,  comes  the  help  of  the  powerful  Gunnison,  and  doubly  strong  it 
rolls  westward  to  the  Utah  line,  and  then  southwestward  till  it  meets 
the  flood  of  the  Green  and  both  become  the  Rio  Colorado; 

Where  the  Gunnison  now  empties  into  the  larger  stream  was  once 
a  wide  lake  embanked  by  the  abrupt  and  lofty  bluffs  that  now  bound  the 


IRRIGATION.  299 

plain,   and  whose  mesa-top  indicates  the  ancient  level  of  the  whole 
country,  out  of  which  the  valleys,  canons  and  lake-beds  were  eroded. 

Into  this  old  expansion  of  the  rivers,  had  been  poured  the  freight  of 
soil  brought  down  from  the  mountain-sides,  where  the  varied  rocks 
were  being  ground  to  powder  under  the  feet  of  glaciers,  and  swept 
along  by  gigantic  torrents  fed  with  endless  meltings.  Hither  was  car- 
ried by  the  swift  waters  the  mingled  dust  and  pebbles  of  primeval 
granite,  volcanic  overflows  and  sedimentary  sands,  lime,  and  argillace- 
ous rock.  It  was  the  latest  mixture  of  all  that  before  this  had  been 
handled  again  and  again  through  the  fires  that  upheaved  the  inner 
ranges,  and  the  waters  that  laid  down  the  rocky  tables,  leaning  against 
their  flanks.  Into  the  river-lakes  went  all  this  mixture  to  sink  into  mud 
upon  the  bottom  of  the  quiet  sea, — a  union  of  the  best  elements  in  all 
the  composition  of  the  western  slope  of  the  Rockies.  In  the  whole 
world  you  could  not  find  a  soil  made  after  a  better  recipe.  Slow 
changes  in  the  climate  proceeded,  and  the  lake  drained  away  and  left  a 
valley  twenty  five  miles  long  and  half  as  wide,  waiting  to  nourish  the 
farmer's  grain  and  the  children's  flowers. 

The  first  requisite  to  adapt  it  to  human  service,  however,  was  that 
the  valley  should  be  watered.  Thousands  of  acres  of  good  land  in  the 
Rocky  mountains  from  Kootenai  to  Chihuahua  remain  worthless  be- 
cause there  is  not  enough  water  available  to  spread  over  them,  but  at 
Grand  Junction  there  is  no  such  deficiency.  The  great  drainage  of  the 
Grand  would  not  miss  all  the  water  that  could  possibly  be  used.  Already 
along  its  margin  miles  of  ranches  have  been  begun,  by  men  digging 
small  and  temporary  ditches  bringing  water  to  irrigate  a  single  farm  or  a 
small  group  of  fields  in  the  bottom.  These  were  the  first  comers  who 
had  choice  of  the  whole  area.  Later  two  or  three  larger  ditches  were 
made  having  a  greater  scope,  and  now  there  has  just  been  finished  a 
waterway,  led  for  twenty-five  miles  along  the  benches  at  the  base  of  the 
Roan  or  Little  Book  Cliffs,  bounding  the  plain  on  the  north,  which  will 
bring  under  cultivation  thirty  thousand  acres  of  valley  heretofore 
unwatered,  and  may  be  extended  when  the  population  demands.  This 
ditch  comes  out  twelve  miles  above  town.  It  is  fifty  feet  wide  across 
the  top,  and  is  thirty-five  feet  at  the  bottom ;  the  depth  is  five  feet,  and 
it  delivers  seven  hundred  cubic  feet  of  water  each  second,  at  a  speed  of 
two  miles  an  hour,  though  there  is  only  twenty-two  inches  of  slope  in 
each  mile  of  length.  A  ditch  like  this  costs  $200.000,  yet  dividends  are 
confidentl}7  expected.  If  anybody  can  invent  a  steamer  which  will  not 
wash  the  banks,  pleasure  yachts  and  freight  barges  will  be  put  upon  it, 
for  it  is  of  considerably  greater  dimensions  than  the  Erie  Canal  when 
first  opened.  There  is  no  lack  of  water,  therefore.  Competent  obser- 
vers say  the  supply  is  sufficient  for  half  a  million  acres,  so  that  the 
intricate  and  expensive  lawsuits  vexing  the  farmers  of  the  eastern  slope 
can  hardly  arise  here.  This  abundance  is  a  matter  of  vital  importance, 


300 


THE  CREST  OF  THJ3  CONTINENT 


and  an  inestimable  advantage.  Water  has  a  value  above  that  of  land 
everywhere  in  Colorado.  Where  land,  in  the  valley  of  the  Cache 
la  Poudre,  is  valued  at  ten  dollars  per  acre,  a  water  right  carries  a  cash 
valuation  of  fifteen  dollars  per  acre  and  is  more  easily  disposed  of.  The 
blessing  attending  the  cultivation  of  the  soil  where  the  water-supply 
exceeds  the  area  of  land,  can  only  be  appreciated  by  those  who  have 
seen  their  crops  wither  for  want  of  it. 


SPANISH    FORK    CANON. 


It  is  only  recently  that  this  water-supply  has  become  available,  how- 
ever, through  the  medium  of  the  canals,  for  any  extended  farming. 
Large  crops,  therefore,  cannot  be  expected  until  next  year,  but  enough 
has  been  learned  to  make  it  sure  that  when  the  peculiarities  of  this 
adobe  soil  and  the  looser  mesa  soil  are  understood,  so  that  the  farmers 
may  know  exactly  how  to  supply  their  irrigation  to  the  best  advantage, 
the  most  plentiful  crops  of  all  the  cereals  can  be  produced.  We  were  told 
that  the  experiments  right  here  at  Grand  Junction  already,  had  yielded 


STRAWBERRIES  AND   WATERMELONS.  301 

corn-stalks  eleven  feet  seven  inches  high;  a  bunch  of  wheat  having 
seventy-four  stalks  iti  one  stool;  barley  with  seventy-six  stalks  in  a  stool; 
oats  five  and  a  half  feet  high ;  Egyptian  millet,  one  hundred  and  five 
stalks  from  a  single  seed,  weighing  thirty-six  pounds;  four  cuttings 
of  alfalfa ;  Irish  potatoes  weighing  from  two  to  four  pounds  apiece ;  cab- 
bages from  five  to  twenty-three  pounds  apiece;  beets,  carrots,  parsnips, 
and  all  the  vegetables  of  equally  prodigious  dimensions.  There  can  be 
no  question  of  the  extraordinary  productivity  of  this  region,  and  that  its 
agricultural  future  is  to  be  a  very  prosperous  one. 

Equally  large  expectations  are  held  at  Grand  Junction,  Delta,  Mon- 
trose  on  the  North  Fork,  and  in  all  the  adjacent  lowlands,  that  this 
whole  region  will  prove  a  great  fruit-bearing  country.  The  plentitude 
and  excellence  of  the  wild  fruits  along  the  streams  and  in  the  foothills  is 
remarkable,  and  formed  one  of  the  attractions  of  the  reservation  in  the 
eyes  of  the  Indian.  The  similarity  in  soil,  climate  and  altitude  to  the 
fruit-growing  region  of  Utah  is  adduced,  and,  in  respect  to  grapes, 
peaches,  plums,  apricots,  nectarines,  and  all  the  small  fruits,  successful 
experiments  have  justified  all  the  arguments.  Just  below  Ouray,  last 
year,  a  ranchman  raised  seven  thousand  quarts  of  strawberries  for 
market.  I  saw  watermelons  and  muskmelons  growing  finely  on  Surface 
creek  at  the  foot  of  the  Grand  Mesa  near  Delta,  and  everywhere  you  will 
find  young  fruit  trees  doing  well  and  uninjured  by  winter,  which  is 
always  mild  so  far  as  known,  the  thermometer  rarely  indicating  cold 
below  zero,  and  the  snowfall  in  the  valleys  being  light.  "  This  new 
Colorado  has  a  climate  essentially  different  from  that  of  old  Colorado 
and  the  country  east  of  the  Continental  Divide.  It  is  the  climate  of 
the  Pacific  coast  modified  only  by  altitude  and  latitude.  The  air  cur- 
rents come  up  over  the  valleys,  plateaus,  hills  and  mountain  sides,  fresh 
from  the  ocean  currents  that  wash  the  Pacific  shores.  These  ocean 
streams  are  heated  under  an  equatorial  sun  and  sweeping  north  around 
the  circle  of  the  earth,  temper  the  whole  western  slope." 

In  this  neighborhood,  too,  are  splendid  grazing  regions,  which 
are  rapidly  filling  with  cattle.  I  have  before  me  a  trustworthy  scrap 
from  the  Colorado  Farmer  on  this  point:  "The  face  of  the  country," 
says  the  writer,  referring  to  the  hill  regions  of  the  Uncompahgre  and 
the  grand  plateaus,  "is  gently  sloping  but  cut  by  gulches,  ravines  and 
canons;  grass  grows  luxuriantly  from  the  creek  and  river  bottom  to  the 
very  tops  of  the  highest  plateaus ;  on  the  higher  uplands  there  are  plenty 
of  pine  and  pinon  trees,  in  many  places  interspersed  with  cedars  and 
aspens;  many  small  brooks  and  springs  course  their  way  down  the 
hillsides;  natural  shelter  is  found  in  every  neighborhood  from  storms 
when  they  come,  which  is  seldom.  Game  abounds  in  the  greatest 
plenty  and  taken  all  in  all,  it  is  probably  the  finest  stock  range  in  the 
state.  The  quality  of  the  grass  is  excellent  and  cures  completely.  It  is 
different  from  the  plains  grass,  grows  tall  with  an  abundant  wealth 


302  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

of  leaf,  stem  and  seed.  This  country  is  to  be  the  great  cattle  country  of 
the  state.  The  Rio  Grande  railway  runs  through  it  and  will  carry 
the  fattened  beeves  to  the  market  of  the  mountains  and  to  Denver  and 
even  start  them  on  their  way  to  the  great  markets  of  the  East.  There  are 
already  cattle  there  and  they  are  but  forerunners  of  the  thousands  yet  to 
come." 

The  important  point  is,  that  the  wide  mountain  areas  insure  sum- 
mer pasturage  without  driving  to  great  distances;  while  the  valleys 
afford  good  winter  grazing.  I  have  been  in  every  cattle  region  in  the 
United  States,  and  I  never  saw  anywhere  such  magnificent  grass  as 
I  have  ridden  through  for  miles  and  miles  along  the  upper  part  of 
Surface  creek  in  Delta  county.  When  the  herds  have  so  increased  that 
the  winter  pasturage  falls  short — some  years  must  elapse  before  that — 
the  valley  lands  will  furnish  an  abundance  of  millet,  oats,  alfalfa  and 
other  grasses,  by  means  of  the  inexhaustible  supply  of  water  which 
is  possible  for  irrigation. 

As  further  aids  to  her  progress,  Grand  Junction  has  easy  access  to 
coal,  both  hard  and  soft;  has  limestone  in  great  abundance,  and  excellent 
white  sandstone  for  building  purposes;  while  the  soil  is  adapted  for 
making  sun-dried  adobes  or  for  being  made  into  burned  brick,  of 
which  material  most  of  the  buildings  and  many  of  the  sidewalks  in  town 
are  now  constructed.  Game  is  common  in  the  neighboring  mountains, 
especially  throughout  the  great  wilderness  which  stretches  northwest, 
and  the  rivers  abound  in  edible  fishes. 

At  length  there  conies  a  day  when  we  are  ready  to  leave  Grand 
Junction  and  "  go  West."  It  is  a  long  ride  that  lies  ahead  and  we  turn 
our  parlor  car  into  a  sleeper  by  setting  up  the  cots  and  curtains  that 
have  not  been  needed  for  several  weeks.  It  is  late  in  the  afternoon,  and 
when  the  morrow's  light  dawns  we  shall  be  out  of  Colorado  and  among 
the  lakes  and  deserts,  the  mountains  and  Mormons  of  Utah. 


XXXII 

GREEN  RIVER 


And  then  the  moon  like  a  goddess  came 

Over  the  mountains  far, 
Wrapping  her  mantle  of  silver  light 

Over  each  golden  star; 

And  the  cliffs  grew  grand  in  the  dazzling  light, 
High  as  the  skies,  and  still  and  white. 

— F ANNIE  I.  SHBKBICK. 

HE  sweet  clear  twilight  was  fading  from  the  cliffs,  and 
had  long  since  left  the  valley,  when  it  came  time  to 
leave  Grand  Junction.  The  rising  moon  beckoned  us 
on,  however,  and  we  look  forward  with  eagerness  to 
our  journey,  for  to-night  we  are  to  cross  ''the  desert," 
to  span  the  canon-begirt  current  of  Green  river,  and 
beheld  the  mountains  of  Utah.  Doubtless  the  silent  hours  of  the  dog 
watch  would  finally  close  our  eyelids ;  but  now  we  bade  Bert  be  sure 
that  the  lamps  in  the  parlor  car  were  well  filled  and  trimmed,  for  none  of 
us  would  confess  the  least  desire  for  sleep. 

In  a  short  time  the  valley  of  Grand  Junction  had  been  left  behind, 
and  we  quickly  passed  through  the  gravelly,  grass-covered  hills  that  lie 
between  the  river  and  the  cliffs  in  this  region.  It  was  not  quite  dark, 
therefore,  when  all  this  had  disappeared,  and  our  train  ran  in  a  swift 
straight  course  across  an  open  and  level,  though  by  no  means  smooth 
plain.  Northward  it  was  bounded  at  a  few  miles  distant  by  the  frown- 
ing and  banded  wall  of  the  Book  cliffs,  colorless  now  in  the  wan  light, 
but  distinct  in  their  majestic  outline;  southward  it  stretched  to  the  hori- 
zon, save  where  it  was  broken  by  the  splendid  file  of  the  Sierra  La  Sal — 
an  isolated  group  of  eruptive  mountains  singularly  graceful  in  contours. 
The  surface  of  the  ground  was  drab  or  blue  or  yellow  in  color,  nowhere 
quite  flat,  but  divided  into  low,  rounded  ridges  and  conical  mounds,  by 
the  shallow  dry  channels,  down  which  have  coursed  the  waters  of  the 
powerful  storms  that  at  long  intervals  burst  over  the  desert.  Stimu- 
lated by  the  occasional  moisture  in  these  channels,  a  few  spears  of  grass 
and  twigs  of  wormwood  are  thrust  up  through  the  soil,  along  their 
depressions;  but  between  —  over  the  general  face  of  the  country, — 
not  a  sign  of  water,  vegetation,  or  animal  life  appears.  It  is  the  repose 
of  utter  silence  and  quietude,  a  netherworld  only  half  lighted  by  the 
worn-out  moon.  Yet  it  has  a  fearful  beauty,  found  in  the  magnitude  of 

80S 


304  .      THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

the  space — the  grandeur  of  the  huge  rocky  masses  faintly  but  continu- 
ously outlined  against  the  bright  sky  north  of  us — the  wide  realms  of 
gray  darkness  southward — the  marvelous  brilliance  of  the  moon — the 
luminous  glory  of  the  overspreading  dome,  unbroken  from  horizon  to 
horizon,  almost  as  at  sea,  and  so  seeming  really  a  part  of  the  globe  and 
not  an  external  thing.  These  things  impress  us  greatly  and  emphasize 
the  sense  of  loneliness  and  remoteness.  No  other  railway  journey  in  the 
country,  I  believe,  could  reproduce  as  this  does  the  impressions  of  an 
ocean-voyage. 

At  Grand  Junction  we  leave  the  Grand  river,  though  our  course  for 
some  miles  is  parallel  with  it  and  not  far  remote.  Skirting  the  edge 
of  the  great  Uncompahgre  plateau  which  lies  between  the  Uncompahgre 
and  Gunnison  rivers  and  the  Rio  Dolores,  the  river  flows  west  and  south- 
west through  deep  gorges  in  the  Jurassic  and  Triassic  rocks  as  far  as  the 
mouth  of  the  Dolores.  This  river  comes  in  from  the  southeast,  takiug 
its  origin  in  the  Sierra  de  La  Plata,  and  running  a  most  picturesque 
course.  Through  its  mouth  it  is  supposed  the  Gunnison,  before  it  was 
deflected  toward  its  more  northern  outlet  by  the  slow  upheaval  of  the 
plateau,  once  flowed  by  the  way  of  a  canon  which  connects  the  present 
valleys  of  the  two  rivers.  This  deserted  canon  was  called  by  the  Utes 
Uriaweep  (Red  Rock),  describing  the  scenery  it  presents.  The  granite 
rises  vertically  from  the  bottom  of  the  valley,  in  narrow,  bas-relief 
columns,  for  some  hundreds  of  feet;  above,  the  beds  of  red  sandstone 
cap  it  in  broken  precipices.  In  some  places  massive  promontories  of  the 
granite,  whose  slow  elevation  has  raised  the  whole  breadth  of  the  plateau 
upon  its  shoulders,  juts  out  into  the  valley  worn  down  through  it. 
The  scenery  reminds  one  strongly  of  the  Yosemite, 

In  the  acute  angle  between  the  Rio  Dolores  and  the  southward  bend- 
ing Grand  lies  the  Sierra  La  Sal, — a  center  of  drainage  in  all  directions. 
It  is  a  mass  of  volcanic  rocks  thrust  up  from  beneath.  Like  the  Henry 
mountains,  the  Sierra  Abajo  and  other  groups  of  that  region,  these 
peaks  were  once  covered  by  a  great  thickness  of  sedimentary  strata  bent 
over  them;  but  they  have  been  cleaned  away,  leaving  the  hard  core 
of  porphyritic  rock  exposed.  The  original  shape  of  the  upthrust  was 
probably  that  of  a  huge  dome,  but  the  tooth  of  time  has  gnawed  it  into 
a  score  or  more  of  clustered  mountains  rising  eight  and  nine  thousand 
feet  above  the  level  of  the  adjacent  rivers.  Yet  there  is  no  doubt  that 
the  summits  of  mountains  like  these,  as  I  remarked  of  the  elevations 
about  Abiquiu  in  New  Mexico,  mark  the  depressions  in  the  primitive 
surface  before  this  prodigious  work  of  erosion  and  corrosion  had  begun. 
One  of  the  streams  flows  with  strong  brine,  suggesting  the  name  Salt 
mountains  to  the  group;  but  the  rest  give  pure,  sweet  currents  when 
they  flow  at  all,  which  with  many  of  them  is  only  for  a  few  hours  fol- 
lowing a  storm.  The  source  of  Salt  creek  is  in  Sinbad's  valley, — a  steep- 
walled  nook  in  the  mountain-side  abounding  in  crystallized  salt. 


THE  RIVER  THROUGH  THE 


305 


After  receiving  the  Dolores  the  Grand  river  flows  straight  south- 
west to  its  junction  with  the  Green,  burying  itself  at  first  in  a  deep, 
narrow,  winding  canon  in  the  red  beds,  then  emerging  into  a  valley 
of  erosion  surrounded  by  tremendous  cliffs  of  deep  red  sandstone,  1,600 
to  2,500  feet  high,  carved  in  fantastic  forms.  It  rose  8,150  feet  above 
the  sea,  350  miles  away;  it  has  fallen  to  3,900  feet,  or  an  average  of 
more  than  ten  feet  in  every  mile,  and  delivers  to  the  Rio  Colorado  about 
5,000  cubic  feet  of  water  every  second.  Considering  this  weight  and 
speed  we  need  not  wonder  at  the  profound  canons  it  has  cut,  and  is  still 
chiseling  deeper  and  deeper,  nearly  keeping  pace  with  the  slow  elevation 
of  the  land. 

The  line  of  ragged,  roan-tinted,  book-edged  cliffs  on  the  north, 
behind  whose  battlements  stretched  an  invisible  plateau  of  broken 
wilderness,  covered  with  grass,  but  almost  treeless  and  waterless,  where 
the  traveler  must  not  leave  the  Indian  trails, — this  line  of  massive  and 


306  THE  CREST  OF  THE   CONTINENT 

vari-colored  cliffs  stretched  all  the  way  to  Green  river  (and  far  beyond 
it,)  rising  there  into  the  loftier  and  bluer  bluffs  which  have  been  named 
Azure,  and,  in  the  sunlight,  seemed  carved  from  cobalt.  Between  their 
towering  portals,  through  the  corridors  of  Gray  canon,  came  the  yellow 
flood  of  the  Green  river,  sweeping  with  enormous  power  from  north  to 
south,  and  crossed  by  us  toward  midnight  upon  a  long  and  lofty  bridge. 
We  looked  down  with  eager  eyes  upon  its  swift  flood  of  chocolate- 
colored  water,  half  as  broad  as  the  Missouri — twice  as  deep  and  impetu- 
ous. We  wished  it  had  been  daylight,  that  the  pregnant  mysteries  of 
the  half-darkness  might  be  revealed,  wherein  distant  forms  full  of  curi- 
ous interest  were  dimly  suggested.  They  told  us  that  here,  at  noonday, 
the  passenger  upon  the  railway  can  see  the  summits  of  the  broken  walls 
that  form  the  Grand  canons  of  the  Colorado,  fifty  miles  to  the  south. 

But  all  the  "grand  canons"  are  not  away  in  the  southern  drylands. 
The  whole  track  of  Green  river  from  its  birth  to  its  death  runs  in  gorges 
whose  depth  and  splendor  excite  our  amazement.  There  are  few  rivers 
in  the  world  that  have  a  history  so  striking;  and  if,  as  is  fair,  we  count 
it  one  stream  from  the  Wind  River  mountains  to  the  Pacific,  the  mighty 
river  is  without  a  peer  in  its  erosive  work. 

Its  source  is  at  the  southwestern  corner  of  Yellowstone  park,  in 
Wyoming;  its  mouth,  two  thousand  miles  southward,  at  the  head_of  the 
Gulf  of  California.  The  present  writer  pens  with  gratification  the 
record  that  he  has  seen  both  these  points.  Its  upper  course  lies  in  open, 
or  wooded  valleys,  where  sparkling,  trout-haunted  rapids  alternate  with 
pools  in  whose  mirror-smooth  surface  the  images  of  fleecy  clouds  play 
with  the  tremulous  forms  of  snowy  peaks.  Then  it  learns  lessons  for 
the  hard-working  future  among  the  plains  and  buttes  of  southern 
Wyoming,  cutting  through  its  first  obstacle  where  the  Alcove  bluffs  rear 
their  gaudy  crests  abreast  of  Bitter  creek. 

Here  is  a  little  village,  settled  long  ago  by  emigrants  and  cattle- 
breeders,  and  here,  in  1869,  Major  J.  W.  Powell,  now  Director  of  the 
United  States  Geological  Survey,  and  chief  of  the  Bureau  of  Ethnology, 
began  his  celebrated  exploration  of  the  river  in  small  boats,  which  ulti- 
mately navigated  all  the  thousand  miles  of  almost  continuous  canons 
that  lay  unexplored,  uncanny  and  perilous  before  them.  Wonderful 
stories  of  it  were  believed  by  the  frontiersmen.  Boats,  they  told  Major 
Powell,  had  been  carried  into  overwhelming  whirlpools,  or  had  been 
sucked  with  fearful  velocity  underground,  never  to  reappear,  for  the 
river  was  lost  in  subterranean  channels  for  hundreds  of  miles.  Falls 
were  reported,  whose  roaring  music  could  be  heard  on  distant  mountain- 
tops  ;  and  the  walls  were  so  steep  in  the  desert,  that  persons  wandering 
on  the  brink  had  died  of  thirst,  vainly  endeavoring  to  reach  the  waters 
they  could  see  below.  The  Indians  believed  the  river  had  been  rolled 
into  an  old  trail  that  once  led  from  their  hard  home  to  the  beautiful 


SHOOTING   THE  RAPIDS.  307 

balmy  land  of  the  Hereafter  in  the  great  west,  in  order  to  keep  them 
away  until  death  gave  their  release. 

Undeterred  by  these  tales,  the  explorers  started.  Their  story  has 
been  told  by  Major  Powell  himself  in  his  report  to  the  government,  and 
in  magazine  articles.  Before  him  Macomb,  Ives,  and  Newburry  had 
seen  the  southern  gorges;  since  then  Button,  Homes  and  others  of  the 
Geological  Surveys  have  surveyed,  mapped  and  sketched  the  strange 
scenery  of  that  strange  river.  Yet  to  no  one  can  anything  but  seeing 
with  his  own  eyes  bring  more  than  the  faintest  conception  of  the  reality. 
And  here  we  are,  at  midnight,  in  the  very  midst  of  it— northward  and 
southward  lie  the  profound  chasms,  the  immeasurable  and  uncountable 
cliffs ; — under  our  feet  flows  the  mighty  river  that  carved  them  out  and 
connects  them  into  one. 

What  a  voyage  was  that  of  Powell's!  The  fantastic  architecture 
of  the  Alcove  foothills,  with  the  gleaming  points  of  the  Uinta  range  in 
the  south;  the  ever-changing  panorama  of  the  badlands  —  scenery  for 
Hades;  the  vermillion  gateway  opened  through  the  snow-capped  moun- 
tains, called  Flaming  Gorge,  where  lies  a  vast  amphi-theatre,  each  step 
built  of  naked  red  sandstone,  and  a  glacis  clothed  with  verdure!  Then 
the  cautious  advance,  after  letting  the  unladen  boats  down  with  ropes 
over  foaming  rapids;  threading  gorge  and  canon  and  flume,  each  char- 
acteristic in  some  new  way,  and  separated  by  little  parks  and  lowlands 
filled  with  trees  and  quaintly  shaped  rocks  from  the  next;  always 
hemmed  in  by  lofty  and  brilliant  walls;  on  to  the  Canon  of  Lodore  and 
Ashley's  Falls  where  years  ago  a  party  of  men  were  drowned  and  where 
Powell  loses  one  of  his  boats.  "Just  before  us,"  he  says  at  one  point, 
"the  canon  divides,  a  little  stream  coming  down  on  the  right,  and 
another  on  the  left,  and  we  can  look  away  up  either  of  these  canons, 
through  an  ascending  vista,  to  cliffs  and  crags  and  towers,  a  mile  back, 
and  two  thousand  feet  over  head.  To  the  right  a  dozen  gleaming 
cascades  are  seen.  Pines  and  firs  stand  on  the  rocks,  and  aspens  over- 
hang the  brooks.  The  rocks  below  are  red  and  brown,  set  in  deep  shad- 
ows, but  above  they  are  buff  and  vermillion,  and  stand  in  the  sunshine. 
The  light  above,  made  more  brilliant  by  the  bright-tinted  rocks,  and  the 
shadows  below  more  gloomy  by  the  somber  hues  of  the  brown  walls, 
increase  the  apparent  depth  of  the  canons.  .  .  .  Never  before 
have  I  received  such  an  impression  of  the  vast  heights  of  these  canon 
walls;  not  even  at  the  Cliff  of  the  Harp,  where  the  very  heavens  seemed 
to  rest  on  their  summits." 

Below  the  Canon  of  Lodore  was  found  the  wonderful  Echo  Rock, 
where  the  Yampa  enters;  next  the  Whirlpool,  where  the  boats  waltz 
down  the  tortuous  and  bowlder-strewn  rapids  in  a  merry  dance  of  eddies 
over  which  the  oars  have  no  control.  "What  a  headlong  ride  it  is! 
Shooting  past  rocks  and  islands!  I  am  soon  filled  with  an  exhilaration 
only  experienced  before  in  riding  a  fleet  horse  over  the  outstretched 


308  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

prairie."  Passing  through  the  "broad,  flaring,  brilliant  gateway"  of 
Split  mountain,  and  down  a  series  of  rapids  in  a  more  open  region,  the 
mouths  of  the  White  and  Uinta  rivers  are  passed,  and  the  river  brings 
them  to  the  chaotic  scenery  of  the  Canon  of  Desolation. 

This  canon  is  very  tortuous,  and  many  lateral  canons  enter  on  either 
side.  The  great  plateau,  in  which  they  are  sunken,  extends  across 
the  river  east  and  west  from  the  foot  of  the  Colorado  Rockies  to  the 
base  of  the  Wasatch.  It  is  eight  thousand  feet  above  the  sea,  and  there- 
fore in  a  region  of  moisture,  as  is  attested  by  the  forests  and  grassy  vales. 
On  these  high  table  lands  elk  and  deer  abound,  and  they  are  favorite 
hunting-grounds  for  the  Utes,  whose  trails  cross  them.  Nothing  of  this, 
however,  is  seen  from  the  river  level,  where  the  voyager  is  surrounded 
by  a  wilderness  of  gray  and  brown  crags.  "In  several  places,"  says 
Powell,  "  these  lateral  canons  are  only  separated  from  each  other  by 
narrow  walls,  often  hundreds  of  feet  high,  but  so  narrow  in  places, 
that  where  softer  rocks  are  found  below,  they  have  crumbled  away  and 
left  holes  in  the  wall,  forming  passages  from  one  canon  into  another. 
.  .  .  Piles  of  broken  rock  lie  against  these  walls;  crags  and  tower- 
shaped  peaks  are  seen  everywhere;  and  away  above  them  long  lines 
of  broken  cliffs,  and  above  and  beyond  the  cliffs  are  pine  forests.  .  . 
A  few  dwarf  bushes  are  seen  here  and  there,  and  cedars  grow  from  the 
crevices — not  like  the  cedars  of  a  land  refreshed  with  rains,  great  cones 
bedecked  with  spray,  but  ugly  clumps,  like  war  clubs  beset  with  spines." 

Various  adventures  carry  the  plucky  party  througli  and  beyond  this 
gorge  down  to  where  our  railway  bridge  spans  the  river  with  its  tena- 
cious links.  They  note  the  existence  of  an  Indian  ferry  of  rude  tog- 
rafts  somewhere  near  here,  but  there  was  nothing  to  induce  their 
stoppage  for  more  than  a  night.  Now,  those  of  us  who  are  minded 
some  day  to  behold  the  wild  crags  of  Desolation  canon  will  reverse 
Major  Powell's  course,  and  embarking  at  this  railway  station  on  the 
river  bank  go  up  the  Green,  through  the  Azure  Cliffs  and  fifty  miles 
beyond.  Or,  turning  southward,  our  boat  may  equip  itself  for  a  longer 
journey,  and  our  minds  make  ready  for  even  more  marvelous  and  mem- 
orable sights,  in  the  profundities  of  the  canons  of  the  Rio  Colorado, 
below  the  junction  of  the  Green  and  the  Grand.  If  so  long  a  journey  is 
forbidden,  there  is  much  delight,  with  the  advantage  of  easy  and  safe 
navigation,  to  be  found  between  the  railway  and  the  mouth  of  Grand 
river. 

A  few  miles  after  leaving  the  railway,  downward  bound,  the 
voyager  would  get  among  curious  bluffs  and  buttes  that  would  interest 
him  all  the  way  to  the  mouth  of  the  San  Rafael,  a  strong  tributary  from 
the  west,  up  which  passed  one  of  the  principal  overland  trails  from  New 
Mexico  to  Utah.  If  he  is  interested  in  archaeology,  Indian  "relics"  in 
abundance  will  reward  his  search  along  the  banks.  The  river  is  tortu- 
ous here,  but  deep  and  quiet.  Sometimes  there  is  a  narrow  flood-plain 


TOOM-  PIN-  WIT-  NEA&.  309 

between  the  river  and  the  wall  on  one  side  or  the  other,  the  peninsulas 
being  pleasantly  wooded.  The  walls  are  orange-colored  sandstone,  and 
vertical,  but  not  very  high.  At  one  point,  where  the  river  sweeps 
around  a  curve  under  a  cliff,  a  vast  hollow  dome  may  be  seen,  with 
many  caves  and  deep  alcoves.  The  doublings  of  the  river  are  many; 
one  loop  carries  you  nine  miles  around,  yet  makes  only  six  hundred 
yards  of  headway.  Gradually  the  chasm  of  the  river  grows  deeper;  the 
walls  are  systematically  curved  and  grandly  arched;  of  beautiful  color, 
and  reflected  in  the  quiet  waters  with  deceiving  distinctness. 

This  is  Labyrinth  canon,  or,  as  the  Indians  called  it,  Toom'-pin 
wu-near, — the  Land  of  Standing  Rocks.  "  The  stream  is  still  quiet,  and 
we  glide  along  through  a  strange,  wierd,  grand  region.  The  landscape 
everywhere,  away  from  the  river,  is  of  rock — cliffs  of  rock;  tables  of 
rock;  plateaus  of  rock;  terraces  of  rock;  crags  of  rock — ten  thousand 
strangely  carved  forms.  Rocks  everywhere  and  no  vegetation ;  no  soil ; 
no  sand.  In  long  gentle  curves  the  river  winds  about  these  rocks. 
When  speaking  of  these  we  must  not  conceive  of  piles  of  bowlders,  or 
heaps  of  fragments,  but  a  whole  land  of  naked  rock,  with  giant  forms 
carved  on  it:  cathedral-shaped  buttes,  towering  hundreds  or  thousands 
of  feet;  cliffs  that  cannot  be  scaled,  and  canon-walls  that  shrink  the 
river  into  insignificance,  with  vast  hollow  domes,  and  tall  pinnacles,  and 
shafts  set  on  the  verge  overhead,  and  all  highly  colored  —  buff,  gray, 
red,  brown  and  chocolate;  never  lichened;  never  moss-covered;  but 
bare,  and  often  polished." 

Below  the  Labyrinth  is  Stillwater  canon,  forty  miles  long.  Its  walls 
at  the  lower  end  are  beautifully  curved,  as  the  river  sweeps  in  its  mean- 
dering course.  Suddenly  gathering  swiftness  it  rushes  hastily  forward 
to  unite  with  the  current  of  the  Grand.  These  streams  join  their  floods 
in  solemn  depths,  more  than  twelve  hundred  feet  below  the  general  sur- 
face of  the  country.  Up  the  Grand  you  look  into  another  "labyrinth." 
It  is  the  central  artery  toward  which  innumerable  side-canons  concen- 
trate. In  every  direction  they  ramify,  deep,  dark  and  impassable  to 
everything  but  the  winged  bird.  Through  such  underground  passages 
are  sent  the  waters  from  the  distant  highlands,  and  their  confluence  fills 
the  whole  chasm  of  the  Grand  with  a  turbid  stream. 

Climb  out,  laboriously  and  cautiously,  ascend  one  of  the  fantastically- 
formed  buttes  that  rise  above  the  level  of  the  plateau,  and  what  a  world 
of  grandeur  is  spread  before  the  eye !  Nothing  one  can  say  will  give  an 
adequate  idea  of  the  singular  and  surprising  landscape, — nothing  in  art 
or  nature  offers  a  parallel.  Below  lies  the  canon  through  which  the 
Colorado  begins  its  wonderful  course.  It  can  be  traced  for  miles,  and 
occasional  glimpses  of  the  river  caught.  From  the  northwest  comes  the 
Green,  in  a  narrow,  winding  gorge ;  from  the  northeast  the  Grand,  hid- 
den in  a  canon  that  seems  bottomless.  "Away  to  the  west  are  lines  of 
cliffs  and  ledges  of  rock,— not  such  ledges  as  you  may  have  seen  where 


310  THE  CREST  Of  THE  CONTINENT. 

the  quarryman  splits  his  blocks,  but  ledges  from  which  the  gods  might 
quarry  mountains,  that,  rolled  out  on  the  plain  below,  would  stand  a 
lofty  range;  and  not  such  cliffs  as  you  may  have  seen  where  the  swallow 
builds  its  nest,  but  cliffs  where  the  soaring  eagle  is  lost  to  view  ere 
he  reaches  the  summit.  .  .  .  Away  to  the  east  a  group  of  eruptive 
mountains  are  seen — the  Sierra  La  Sal.  Their  slopes  are  covered  with 
pines,  and  deep  gulches  are  flanked  with  great  crags,  and  snow  fields 
are  seen  near  the  summits.  So  the  mountains  are  in  uniform — green, 
gray  and  silver.  Wherever  we  look  there  is  but  a  wilderness  of  rocks; 
deep  gorges  where  the  rivers  are  lost  below  cliffs  and  towers  and  pinna- 
cles; and  ten  thousand  strangely  carved  forms  in  every  direction;  and 
beyond  them,  mountains  blending  with  the  clouds." 

I  cannot  go  on  to  tell  of  the  profound  crevices  in  the  crust  of  the 
globe  beyond,  where  the  Rio  Colorado,  taking  its  name  from  its  vermill- 
ioned  borders,  flows  a  full  mile  below  the  surface.  A  whole  volume  like 
this  would  not  suffice  to  portray  fully  the  pictures  and  the  teaching  of 
a  single  day's  ride  down  that  engulfed  stream,  or  an  hour's  march  along 
the  giddy  brink.  Only  one  man,  Captain  C.  E.  Dutton,  has  ever  given 
anything  approaching  an  adequate  description.  He  lived  on  the  plateau 
and  studied  it  for  years;  and  he  tells  us  that  it  is  a  long  time  before  the 
unaccustomed  mind  can  come  to  have  any  real  comprehension  of  the 
magnitude  and  the  sublimity  and  the  exquisite  beauty  of  what  the  can- 
ons above  and  below  have  to  show  to  the  attentive  eye.  Nothing  in  the 
wide  world  equals  or  compares  with  it  in  its  peculiar  and  amazing  beauty 
and  force. 

But  the  fanes  and  museums  of  these  rock-gods  are  guarded  against 
the  too  easy  profanation  of  human  curiosity.  The  terrors  of  personal 
discomfort  and  danger  surround  them.  Enduring  and  brave  must 
be  the  horseman  or  canoeist — what  a  trip  for  the  Rob  Roys  of  the 
future!— who  penetrates  this  naked  wilderness  and  feasts  his  eyes  on  the 
riches  of  novel  color  and  form  spread  before  him  in  the  glory  of  the  set- 
ting sun! 

The  dog  watch  comes.  The  gray  waste  of  sterile  land  sweeps  steadily 
past.  The  stars  wheel  slowly  along  their  cosmical  paths.  Utter  loneli- 
ness envelopes  us  as  we  rush  forward  with  direct  and  tireless  speed. 
The  rolling  music  of  our  progress,  and  the  solemnity  of  our  thoughts  as 
we  ponder  what  we  have  seen  and  heard,  quiet  mind  and  body,  the  lamps 
are  turned  down,  the  curtains  drawn,  and  silence  and  darkness  reigns  in 
our  car,  as  over  the  night-beleaguered  desert  save  where  some  official 
passes  silently  through,  shading  his  lantern  with  his  hand. 


XXXIII 

CROSSING  THE  WASATCH. 


The  splendor  falls  on  castle  walls 
And  snowy  summits,  old  In  story; 
The  long  light  shakes  across  the  lakes 
And  the  wild  cataracts  leap  In  glory. 

Blow  bugle,  blow;  set  the  wild  echoes  flying; 

Answer,  echoes,  answer,  dying,  dying,  dying. 

—  TENNYSON. 


the  first  full  light  of  dawn,  on  the  morning  after 
leaving  Grand  Junction,  the  vigilant  Madame  was 
awake,  and  we  heard  her  calling  upon  us  from  her  cur- 
tained corner  to  wake  up  and  look  out  of  the  window. 
Well,  as  the  Shaughran  said  when  punished  for  his  fox- 
hunt on  the  Squire's  horse,  "It  was  worth  it,"  even 
at  the  expense  of  the  morning  nap.  Here  was  something  different  from 
anything  seen  before. 

We  were  far  inside  the  boundary  of  Utah  Territory  and  were 
already  beginning  to  climb  the  first  steps  toward  the  heights  of  the 
Wasatch  —  the  western  bulwark  of  the  Rocky  mountains.  The  way  lay 
up  the  South  Fork  of  the  Price  river,  along  a  broad  valley  sunken 
between  enormously  high  walls  of  sedimentary  rock  whose  horizontal 
stratification  betrayed  no  signs  of  disturbance.  How  long  must  the 
waters  of  the  paleazoic  sea  have  surged  against  the  primitive  granitic 
caves  and  lava-masses  —  how  steady  must  this  part  of  the  earth's  crust 
have  remained  for  ages  —  to  let  these  thousands  of  feet  of  rocky  tablets 
be  piled  up!  And  then,  when  it  was  done;  when  the  slow  upheaval  had 
come,  and  the  water  had  gradually  been  drawn  off;  how  patiently  did 
the  centuries  wait  while  these  great  depressed  spaces  were  cut  down  and 
the  material  carried  away  to  be  spread  —  who  knows  where? 

Here  mountain-like  table-lands  stretched  their  white  and  cedar- 
spiked  terraces,  one  above  another  to  the  plateau-top,  for  scores  of  miles 
out  from  the  range  against  which  they  were  braced.  The  water  and  the 
sand-blast  of  the  fierce  winds  had  worn  their  exposed  cliff-faces,  and 
sometimes  carved  their  crests  (now  gold-tipped  by  the  first  sunbeams) 
into  fantastic  shapes  that  recalled  pictures  in  the  Dakota  badlands  or  the 
grotesque  monuments  near  Colorado  Springs.  In  some  places  they  were 
honeycombed  with  round  holes,  connecting  pits  and  fissures,  like  a  pro- 
digious display  of  Arabesque  fret-work;  elsewhere  they  would  stand 

332 


CASTLE  GATR  313 

massive  and  plain.  As  we  proceeded  colors  began  to  appear, — yellows, 
warm  browns  and  pale  reds,  against  which,  in  thorough  keeping,  grew 
the  bent  and  aged  forms  of  junipers.  In  the  soft  gray  of  the  morning 
light,  nothing  could  be  more  pleasing  than  these  worn  and  variegated 
battlements,  between  which  for  miles  and  miles  the  road  winds  its  way. 
Every  stupendous  headland  was  a  new  rendering  of  the  general  idea — a 
novel  design  coherent  with  hundreds  of  its  fellows ;  and  of  each  the  eye 
was  afforded  several  altered  aspects  as  the  train  changed  its  point  of 
view. 

Finally  we  attained  a  higher  level,  and  the  cliffs  came  nearer, 
became  more  precipitous  and  the  inter  spaces  more  green.  This  was 
Castle  Valley.  We  had  risen  and  dressed  ourselves  and  were  thinking  of 
oreakfast.  The  sun  had  come  high  enough  over  the  "  great,  lone  land  " 
m  our  rear  to  shoot  his  beams  half  way  down  the  projections  of  the 
dewy  and  glittering  cliffs,  when  the  'train  came  to  a  stop,  though  there 
was  only  a  side-track.  Stepping  to  the  platform  to  enquire  why,  we 
came  with  all  the  shock  of  complete  surprise  face  to  face  with  what 
to  me,  is  the  most  inspiring,  as  a  single  object,  of  all  the  marvelous 
scenes  between  the  Plains  and  the  Salt  Sea.  This  was  Castle  Gate. 

The  canon  here  becomes  very  narrow  and  tortuous,  with  pictur- 
esque defiles  opening  here  and  there  and  conducting  tiny  streams,  swelled 
in  spring  to  noisy  torrents.  Trees  and  bushes  in  great  abundance  grow 
on  the  narrow  banks  of  the  river  and  swarm  up  the  rough  heaps  of  rocks 
that  bury  the  foot  of  the  cliff  on  each  side.  Just  here,  these  cliffs  are 
several  hundred  feet  high  and  exceedingly  steep,  showing  great  ledge- 
fronts  as  upright  and  clean  of  vegetation  as  the  side  of  a  house.  All 
the  rocks  are  bright  rust- red,  darker  and  lighter  here  and  there ;  and  over 
all  arches  a  sky,  violet-blue,  vivid,  and  immeasurably  deep,  for  you  may 
look  far  into  it,  as  into  water  that  lies  quiet  and  luminous  under  the  sun- 
shine. 

Now  out  from  this  wall  on  one  side  pushes  a  great  projection  half 
way  across  the  valley,  crowned  on  its  point  by  a  round  turret.  This  is 
on  the  left  or  southern  side.  Opposite  it  has  been  left  standing  an 
enormous  natural  wall — a  thin  promontory  projected  from  the  face  of 
the  mountain  as  Sandy  Hook  stretches  narrow  and  straight  out  in  the 
ocean  beyond  the  Atlantic  coast-line.  From  base  to  combing  it  rises 
sheer  and  toppling  whichever  way  you  scan  it;  and  on  the  western  side 
the  topmost  ledges  overhang.  Here  the  face  is  scarred  not  only  by  the 
horizontal  lines  denoting  the  separate  strata,  but  also  by  vertical  gashes 
of  cleavage  some  of  which  are  strongly  marked  cracks  extending  from 
top  to  bottom.  These,  show  how,  by  the  continual  scaling  off  of  enor- 
mous slabs  on  each  side,  under  the  prying  levers  of  heat  and  cold,  mois- 
ture and  weight,  this  once  thick  headland  has  been  reduced  to  a  thinness 
so  contracted  that  its  thickness  in  proportion  to  its  height  is  no  greater 
than  that  of  Cleopatra's  Needle  or  any  other  monumental  shaft;  while 
14 


814  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

the  narrowed  peninsular,  which  connects  it  with  the  main  crag,  has  only 
the  proportions  of  a  garden  wall:  but  what  a  wall!  for  it  is  eight  hundred 
feet  from  its  weedy  top  to  the  foundation.  You  can  count  in  the  patches 
of  freshly  exposed  rock  on  its  surface  how  season  by  season  it  is  dimin- 
ishing; and  one  great  crack  almost  splits  its  extreme  edge  in  twain  so 
that  some  day,  with  an  earth-jarring  crash,  half  the  thickness  of  this 
noble  remnant  will  drop  to  its  base  and  burst  into  dust  and  fragments. 

Heedless  of  such  a  castatrophe,  and  unmindful  of  the  grandeur  of 
their  home  in  human  eyes,  birds  build  their  nests  in  the  crevices  and 
crannies  that  are  nicked  into  its  crimson  front,  and  bats  shrink  from  the 
light  into  the  seams  that  make  a  network  upon  its  sides.  Great  gaps 
mar  the  regularity  of  its  sky  line;  bu«  these  mark  the  ruinous  hand 
of  time  and  add  to  the  antique  grandeur  of  the  pile.  We  cannot  take 
our  eyes  from  it,  and  forget  the  even  more  lofty  walls  and  pinnacles 
opposite,  which  have  not  the  advantage  of  the  isolation,  and  the  Olym- 
pian dignity  and  pose,  of  this  daring  pier. 

A  little  group  of  Indians  on  horseback,  in  the  full  toggery  of  Uinta 
Utes,  were  jogging  along  the  road  beside  the  track  when  presently  we 
emerged  from  Castle  Valley  and  drew  up  at  Pleasant  Valley  Junction. 
Here  a  branch  road  comes  from  some  important  coal  mines  sixteen  miles 
to  the  westward.  This  coal  occurs  in  a  bed  eleven  feet  in  thickness,  and 
so  situated  as  to  be  worked  very  conveniently.  The  mines  were  opened 
four  years  ago,  and  a  railway  built  to  them  from  Provo  —  a  distance 
of  sixty  miles.  This  was  bought  by  the  Denver  and  Rio  Grande  and  a 
part  of  it  was  utilized.  Now  all  the  coal  comes  down  from  the  mines  by 
gravity,  and  the  locomotive  is  required  only  to  haul  up  the  empty  cars. 

This  coal  is  bituminous,  and  of  better  quality  than  that  from  Rock 
Springs,  in  "Wyoming,  which  it  is  gradually  displacing  in  the  Utah 
markets,  since  it  is  found  to  give  more  heat,  ton  for  ton.  Its  introduction 
was  a  boon  to  the  people  generally,  for  instead  of  seven  dollars  and 
fifty  cents  a  ton,  with  occasional  extra  prices,  they  now  pay  only  five 
dollars,  and  get  a  better  article.  The  mines  are  operated  by  the  Pleas- 
ant Valley  Coal  Company,  who  employ  about  one  hundred  men  and 
produce  a  daily  output  of  three  hundred  tons,  which  is  constantly 
increasing  to  meet  the  growing  demand. 

After  leaving  Pleasant  Valley  Junction  the  ascent  of  the  Wasatch 
was  begun  in  earnest,  but,  though  a  long  pull,  the  grade  was  not  remark- 
ably steep,  nor  was  the  canon  (worn  through  a  red  pudding-stone,) 
astonishing  in  any  way,  while  always  interesting.  By  the  time  break- 
fast was  fairly  out  of  the  way,  the  summit  had  been  reached  and  the 
descent  began  through  the  canon  of  the  Spanish  Fork  into  Mormondom. 

A  few  miles  down  we  came  to  Thistle  Station,  a  place  of  some  con- 
sequence because  it  is  the  railway  outlet  for  the  large  San  Pete  valley, 
which  stretches  nearly  along  the  western  foot  of  the  Wasatch  until  it 
emerges  into  the  valley  of  the  Sevier.  This  valley  is  reached  from  the 


8AN  PETE  VALLEY.  315 

westward  by  a  narrow-gauge  railway  line,  built  years  ago  by  Mormon 
capital.  It  enters  it  from  Nephi  by  the  way  of  Salt  creek  and  termi- 
nates at  Wales,  where  there  are  coal  mines  worked  by  Welchmen  and 
operated  by  English  capital.  The  San  Pete  valley  is  not  particularly 
interesting.  Yet  the  little  settlements  back  in  the  eastern  foothills  where 
the  many  streams  come  down  are  pleasant  enough. 

This  valley  became  famous  in  1865-67  as  the  scene  of  the  San  Pete 
Indian  War.  "  Several  companies  of  the  Mormon  militia  were  mustered 
here,  and  held  the  mountains  and  passes  on  the  east  against  the  Indians, 
guarded  the  stock  gathered  here  from  the  other  settlements  that  had 
been  abandoned,  and  took  part  in  the  fights  at  Thistle  creek,  .  .  . 
and  the  rest,  where  Black  Hawk  and  his  flying  squadron  of  Navajos  and 
Piutes  showed  themselves  such  plucky  men." 

Toward  the  lower  end  of  the  valley  stands  the  important  town 
of  Manti,  its  suburbs  encroaching  on  the  sagebrush.  "  As  a  settlement," 
says  Phil  Robinson,  the  most  recent  traveller  thither,  "Manti  is  pretty, 
well  ordered  and  prosperous.  .  .  .  The  abundance  of  trees,  the 
width  of  the  streets,  the  perpetual  presence  of  running  water,  the  fre- 
quency and  size  of  the  orchards,  and  the  general  appearance  of  simple, 
rustic  comfort,  impart  to  Manti  all  the  charateristic  charm  of  the  Mormon 
settlements."  Robinson  says  that  the  people  in  that  region  are  chiefly 
Danes  and  Scandinavians.  "  These  nationalities  contribute  more  largely 
than  any  other— unless  Great-Britishers  are  all  called  one  nation — to  the 
recruiting  of  Mormonism,  and  when  they  reach  Utah  maintain  their 
individuality  more  conspicuously  than  any  others."  The  temple  at 
Manti  will  be  something  worth  going  far  to  see  when  it  is  completed. 
"The  site,  originally,  was  a  rugged  hill  slope,  but  this  has  been  cut  out 
into  three  vast  semicircular  terraces,  each  of  which  is  faced  with  a  wall 
of  rough  hewn  stone,  seventeen  feet  in  height.  Ascending  these  by  wide 
flights  of  steps  you  find  yourself  on  a  fourth  level,  the  hill-top,  which 
has  been  leveled  into  a  spacious  plateau,  and  on  this,  with  its  back 
set  against  the  hill,  stands  the  temple.  The  style  of  Mormon  architect- 
ure,  unfortunately,  is  heavy  and  unadorned,  and  in  itself,  therefore, 
this  massive  pile,  one  hundred  and  sixty  feet  in  length  by  ninety  wide, 
and  about  one  hundred  high,  is  not  prepossessing.  But  when  it  is 
finished,  and  the  terrace-slopes  are  turfed,  and  the  spaces  planted  out 
with  trees,  the  view  will  undoubtedly  be  very  fine,  and  the  temple  be 
a  building  that  the  Mormons  may  well  be  proud  of." 

The  lower  part  of  the  valley  is  undulating, — "for  the  most  part 
a  sterile  looking  waste  of  greasewood,  but  having  an  almost  continual 
threat  of  cultivation  .running  along  the  center,"  until  it  suddenly  opens, 
at  Mayfield,  into  a  great  meadow  of  several  thousand  acres.  Passing  on 
to  the  Sevier,  volcanic  hills  and  benches  shut  in  the  valley,  but  the 
bottoms  along  the  river  were  level,  grassy,  "clumped  with  shrubs  and 
patched  with  corn-fields."  Here  there  are  frequent  settlements,  one 


316  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

of  the  most  important  of  which  is  Salina,  where  the  alkalies  that  infect 
the  soil  of  all  this  region  are  concentrated  in  salt-beds  that  have  long 
been  dug  for  export.  The  Denver  and  Rio  Grande  Company  have  pro- 
jected a  track  from  this  point  due  east  to  join  its  main  line  and  thus 
secure  not  only  the  salt  trade,  but  tap  this  farming  and  grazing  region, 
which  some  day  will  be  of  great  consequence,  for  there  is  plenty  of 
water.  Furthermore,  this  same  company  has  laid  a  sort  of  preemption 
right  upon  a  railway  route  surveyed  westward  from  Salina  toward  the 
Pacific  coast  through  southern  Nevada  and  central  California,  which 
will  pass  close  by  the  Yosemite  and  the  Caleveras  groves  of  Big  Trees. 
We  had  gathered  all  this  information  from  books  and  good  friends, 
and  the  recollection  of  former  reading,  while 

"like  Iser,  rolling  rapidly," 

we  descended  the  Spanish  Fork.  This  canon  is  not  rough  and  cliff- 
bound,  but  its  sides,  though  steep,  are  rounded,  and  soft  walls  of  greenery 
— small  bushes,  rank  grass  and  tufted  groves  of  aspen  and  oak;  while 
the  river  purls  along  the  narrow  depression  under  the  continuous  shade 
of  young  maples,  alders,  oaks  and  other  shrubbery.  A  wagon  road 
is  to  be  seen  most  of  the  way  showing  long  use.  The  rude  kennels 
built  for  temporary  use  by  the  rail  way- makers  have  not  yet  had  time 
to  crumble,  and  add  a  picturesque  note  to  the  pleasant  vale.  Here  and 
there  were  camps  of  emigrants,  or  of  railway  people.  That  they  were 
Mormons  was  plain  by  the  comfortable,  home-like  appearance  of  each 
bivouac,  where  buxom  women  were  tending  to  the  children  and  car- 
rying on  the  ordinary  duties  of  housekeeping  in  houses  of  cloth  and 
kitchens  made  under  booths  of  maple  boughs.  Children  and  dogs  and 
donkeys  abounded,  and  at  two  or  three  camps  we  caught  sight  of 
pet  fawns.  This  canon  was  formerly  an  Indian  highway,  and  through 
it,  in  days  gone  by,  more  than  one  incursion  of  Navajos  and  Piutes  has 
swept  down  upon  the  settlements,  "bringing  fire  and  the  sword." 
Through  it  also  came,  long,  long  ago,  the  pious  friars, — explorer-priests 
— bent  upon  the  conversion  of  the  Indians;  and  the  digging  up  of  a  few 
coins  and  other  relics  of  their  visits  has  given  the  name  of  Spanish  Fork 
to  the  stream,  which  really  is  a  "fork"  of  no  other  water  course,  but 
empties  directly  into  Lake  Utah. 

As  we  emerge  from  the  canon  a  wide,  haze  tinted  sketch  of  moun- 
tains and  green-gray  plains,  with  a  touch  of  steel- white  water,  greets 
the  eye  to  the  westward,  where  stretch  the  arid  deserts  and  volcanic 
ranges  of  Utah  and  Nevada.  Southward,  nobly  tall  and  rugged,  rise  the 
hights  of  the  Wasatch,  with  the  magnificent  pyramid  of  Mt.  Nebo, 
overtopping  the  rest,  exalted  above  the  sunlit  clouds  and  crowned  with 
early  snow  wreaths.  It  is  the  last  of  the  great,  lone,  Rocky  Mountain 
peaks  that  we  shall  see,  and  a  worthy  reminder  of  the  splendid  scenery 
in  whose  presence  our  life  has  been  expanded  and  glorified  during  the 
bygone  months. 


XXXIV 

BY  UTAH  LAKES. 


Straight  mine  eye  hath  caught  new  pleasures 
Whilst  the  landscape  round  it  measures; 
Russet  lawns,  and  fallows  gray, 
Where  the  nibbling  flocks  do  stray; 
Mountains,  on  whose  barren  breast 
The  laboring  clouds  do  often  rest; 
Meadows  trim  with  daisies  pied, 
Shallow  brooks  and  rivers  wide; 
Towers  and  battlements  it  sees, 
Bosomed  high  in  tufted  trees, 
Where,  perhaps  some  Beauty  lies 
The  Cynosure  of  neighboring  eyes. 


—MILTON. 


EBO  does  not  long  remain  in  sight  from  our  windows: 
for  speedily  we  swing  out  into  the  sloping  valley  land, 
bringing  into  close  companionship  on  the  right  the 
northern  half  of  the  Wasatch  range,  which,  were  it 
a  trifle  more  arctic  and  bristling  aloft,  would  remind 
us  strongly  of  the  Sangre  de  Cristo.  On  each  side  now 
are  spread  wide  areas  of  grain  field  and  grassland,  with  abundant  hedges 
and  thickets  and  orchards  surrounding  clusters  of  houses  and  barns. 
The  train  makes  frequent  halts  at  little  villages,  which  seem  to  have 
been  built  along  both  sides  of  the  track,  because  the  reverse  process 
occurred  and  the  rails  were  laid  in  the  middle  of  the  main  street.  The 
first  of  these  farmer-settlements  was  Spanish  Fork  (the  Palmyra  of 
old  settlers)  where,  not  long  ago,  a  copper  image  of  the  Virgin  Mary  was 
dug  up,  together  with  some  fragments  of  a  human  skeleton.  "This 
takes  back  the  Mormon  settlement  of  to-day  to  the  long  ago  time  when 
Spanish  missionaries  preached  of  the  Pope  to  the  Piutes,  and  gave 
but  little  satisfaction  to  either  man  or  beast,  for  their  tonsured  scalps 
were  but  scanty  trophies,  and  the  coyote  found  their  lean  bodies  but 
poor  picking."  A  few  miles  further  is  Springville,  hidden  in  well- 
watered  trees,  where  a  stream  tumbling  out  of  a  mysteriously  dark 
canon  just  behind  the  town,  turns  the  wheels  of  extensive  flour  mills 
and  woolen  factories. 

It  is  with  growing  and  animated  interest,  that  we  pass  on  through 
miles  of  fertile  farmland  and  come  into  plain  sight  of  Utah  Lake, — a 
glassy  sheet  of  water  beyond  which  loom  through  their  mist  the  vague 

817 


318 


THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 


forms  of  many  angular  hills.  The  water  is  fresh,  and  none  of  thfc 
barrenness  that  has  smitten  the  shores  of  the  Salt  sea  northward  accur- 
ses  this  beautiful  lake,  with  which  the  Indians  strangely  enough, 
associated  many  evil  influences  and  dark  legends.  Between  us  and  the 
shore  stretch  vast  meadows  of  green  prairie  grasses  and  bulrushes,  upon 
which  herds  of  sleek  cattle  and  fine  horses  were  grazing.  Except  upon 
the  western  side,  where  the  hills  yield  no  water,  there  is  a  semicircle  of 
villages  at  the  feet  of  the  encompassing  hills,  with  checkered  fields 


BEE  HIVE    HOUSE. 

of  grain  and  fodder  between  the  embowered  clusters  of  houses  and  the 
swampy  meadows  along  shore.  Sometimes  the  meadows  and  gardens 
the  squares  of  wheat  and  Indian  corn  come  clear  down  to  the  shore. 

Though  most  of  the  houses  were  of  adobe,  showing  signs  of  long 
occupancy  in  the  advanced  state  of  orchard  and  garden,  and  the  home 
like  air  about  them,  the  pioneer's  wagon  top  makes  him  a  good  enough 
house  for  several  weeks  in  this  dry  and  genial  climate,  but  he  builds 
something  better  for  the  winter.  The  second  season,  therefore,  will  find 
him  living  in  a  small,  but  tight  and  warm,  cabin  of  slabs,  chinked  and 
roofed  with  dirt.  His  stables  will  be  low  structures  of  poles  thatched 
with  straw  or  rushes  cut  at  the  border  of  the  lake,  and  his  grain  will  be 
stacked  out  of  doors. 


A  CHARACTERISTIC  MORMON  TOWN.  319 

A  great  gap  in  the  Wasatch  has  been  in  sight  for  some  time,  in 
which  lies  the  source  of  the  Provo  river,  and  down  here  upon  its  banks 
is  Provo — the  largest  town  on  Utah  Lake.  We  have  "  Sinners  and 
Saints"  open  before  us  as  we  draw  up  at  the  station;  and  the  Madame 
reads  to  us  what  the  author  has  to  say  about  this  very  town: 

' '  Visitors  have  made  the  American  Fork  canon  too  well  known 
to  need  more  than  a  reference  here,  but  the  Provo  canon,  with  its 
romantic  waterfalls  and  varied  scenery,  is  a  feature  of  the  Utah  valley 
which  may  some  day  be  eqally  familiar  to  the  sight-seeing  world.  The 
botanist  would  find  here  a  field  full  of  surprises,  as  the  vegetation  is  of 
exceptional  variety  and  the  flowers  unusually  profuse.  Down  this 
canon  tumbles  the  Provo  river;  and  as  soon  as  it  reaches  the  mouth 
.  .  it  is  seized  upon  and  carried  off  to  right  and  left  by  irrigation 
channels  and  ruthlessly  distributed  over  the  slopes.  And  the  result 
is  seen,  approaching  Provo,  in  magnificent  reaches  of  fertile  land  and 
miles  of  crops.  Provo  is  almost  Logan  [in  Cache  Valley]  over  again,  for 
though  it  has  the  advantage  over  the  northern  settlement  in  population, 
it  resembles  it  in  appearance  very  closely.  There  is  the  same  abundance 
of  foliage,  the  same  width  of  water-edged  streets,  the  same  variety 
of  wooden  and  adobe  houses,  the  same  absence  of  crime  and  drunken- 
ness, the  same  appearance  of  solid  comfort.  It  has  its  mills  and  its 
woolen  factory,  its  'co-op.'  and  its  lumber-yards.  There  is  the  same 
profusion  of  orchard  and  garden,  the  same  all  pervading  presence  of 
cattle  and  teams.  .  .  .  The  clear  streams,  perpetually  industrious 
in  their  loving  care  of  lowland  and  meadow  and  orchard,  and  so  cheery, 
too,  in  their  perpetual  work,  are  a  type  of  the  men  and  women  them- 
selves; the  placid  cornfields,  lying  in  bright  levels  about  the  houses,  are 
not  more  tranquil  than  the  lives  of  the  people;  the  tree-crowded  orchards 
and  stack-filled  yards  are  eloquent  of  universal  plenty ;  the  cattle  loiter- 
ing in  the  pasture  contented,  the  foals  all  running  about  in  the  roads, 
while  the  wagons  which  their  mothers  are  drawing  stand  at  the  shop 
door  or  field  gate,  strike  the  new  comer  as  delightfully  significant  of 
a  simple  country  life,  of  mutual  confidence,  and  universal  security." 

At  Springville  and  again  at  Provo,  the  train  was  surrounded  by  a 
flock  of  little  girls  who  held  up  to  the  windows  baskets  of  fruit — apples, 
pears,  raspberries,  plums,  grapes  and  peaches.  They  sought  buyers 
very  prettily,  offering  whole  handfuls  of  the  fruit  for  five  cents.  Every- 
body bought  it,  for  nothing  could  be  more  welcome  after  the  weary 
journey.  The  Madame  rushed  out  to  the  platform  and  proceeded  to 
empty  the  basket  of  one  gentle  speculator  whose  frock  was  white 
and  clean,  but  whose  shapely  legs  and  feet  were  bare  and  brown.  She 
wore  no  hat,  and  there  fell  down  her  straight  young  back  a  heavy  braid 
of  beautiful  corn-silk  hair  tied  at  the  end  with  a  bow  of  cherry  ribbon. 
Her  figure  and  manners  were  full  of  naive  grace.  As  the  bargain  was 


320  THE  GRE8T  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

concluded  and  we  rolled  away,  the  Madame  came  near  kissing  her  good- 
bye,  and  we  heard  some  one  humming 

41  Happy  little  maiden  she, 
Happy  maid  of  Arcadle." 

But  was  it  this,  or  another  little  maid,  or  both,  she  had  in  mind,  while 
the  soft  light  shone  in  her  eyes? 

Nephi,  the  next  station — a  mass  of  orchards  surrounding  straggling 
streets  of  doubled-doored  gray  houses  —  is  memorable  because  of  the 
remains  of  fortifications  that  surround  it,  with  lesser  defences  near  many 
of  the  houses.  These  consisted  of  thick  mud  parapets  pierced  for  rifles ; 
and  they  recall  the  dangers  these  pioneers  had  to  encounter  from  the 
"Lamanites,"  at  they  called  the  redskins.  "Young  men  tell  how  as 
children  they  used  to  lie  awake  at  nights  to  listen  as  the  red  men  swept, 
whooping  and  yelling,  through  the  quiet  streets  of  the  little  settlement; 
how  the  guns  stood  always  ready  against  the  wall,  and  the  windows  were 
barricaded  every  night  with  thick  pine  logs." 

The  beautiful  valley  of  Utah  Lake  has  now  been  lef"  behind,  and 
the  scene  returns  to  the  familiar  sagebrush  and  volcanic  scoria,  through 
which  a  small  river -of  yellow  water  finds  its  way,  and  we  follow  all  its 
curves.  The  river  is  the  Jordan,  so  called  because  it  connects  the  Utah 
with  the  Great  Salt  Lake,  as  its  namesake  does  Galilee  and  the  Dead 
Sea.  But  the  yellow  river  and  its  desolate  ridges  are  presently  passed, 
and  there  opens  out  on  each  side  a  vista  of  great  fields  of  wheat  and 
tasseling  corn;  of  orchards  heavy  with  ripened  fruit,  and  meadows  sere 
with  summer  heat;  and  of  houses  hidden  in  trees  and  hopvines,  and 
touched  with  the  brilliant  points  of  climbing  roses  and  honeysuckles,  or 
the  lofty  standards  of  the  hollyhock,  flying  by  like  the  panorama  of 
a  dream. 

Up  the  grand  slope  of  the  Wasatch  beyond,  stretches  a  mass  of 
houses  and  a  forest  of  shade  trees,  that  are  sweeping  every  instant  nearer. 
Shade  of  Jehu,  how  we  are  tearing  along!  Swish!  That  was  a 
smelter.  Swish  again!  That  was  a  furnace.  Crash!  Bang!  Salt 
Lake  City!  Shall  we  halt?  No,  only  a  few  moments  to  watch  the 
crowd  alight  and  wrestle  with  the  hotel  runners;  and  also  to  detach  and 
arrange  for  the  side-tracking  of  our  two  household  cars.  We  will  keep 
the  coach  and  go  on  to  Ogden  while  we  are  "in  running  order"  as 
Chum  says.  Then  we  will  come  back  to-night  and  stay  in  Salt  Lake 
City  as  long  as  we  please.  So  with  a  parting  admonition  to  Bert  we 
take  our  seats  and  are  moving  onward  once  more. 

Here  again  the  track  for  a  long  distance  runs  along  the  middle  of  a 
surburban  street  slowly  traversed, — a  street  of  lowly  houses,  each  in  its 
dense  garden.  It  is  not  at  all  a  bad  notion  of  the  whole  city,  which  that 
glimpse  gives  the  traveller,  but  shortly  it  is  exchanged  for  a  sage-bush- 
plain,  followed  by  a  region  reminding  us  strongly  of  the  St.  Clair  flats  in 
Cana*da.  Meadows  and  marshes,  vividly  green,  stretch  to  the  westward, 


SKIRTING  THE  GREAT  SALT  LAKE.  321 

diversified  by  planted  groves  of  cottonwood,  while  mountains  rise  close 
at  hand  on  the  east.  Here  and  there  pools  of  calm  water  flit  by,  on 
whose  surface  large  flocks  of  snow-white  gulls  sit  motionless.  It  is  a 
great  place  for  blackbirds,  also,— Brewer's  grakle  and  the  yellow-headed 
blackbird— one  of  which  races  with  the  train,  apparently  just  to  show 
how  fast  he  can  fly.  Presently  the  ground  becomes  dryer  and  shows 
wide  cultivation.  Stacks  of  hay  and  straw  dot  the  level  and  unfenced 
expanse,  but  the  houses  and  barns  of  the  farmers  are  all  at  our  right 
along  the  foot  of  the  hills.  They  are  pleasant  homes,  embowered  in 
orchards,  and  the  whole  scene  is  sunny  and  peaceful. 

The  soil  is  black  and  loamy,  the  foothills  green  and  studded  with 
blooming  farms  and  homesteads,  the  lowlands  lush  with  long  grass  and 
willow  thickets.  Westward,  the  scene  might  be  a  replica  of,  say,  the 
coast  of  North  Carolina,  for  now  the  Great  Salt  Lake  is  in  full  view,  and 
the  mist  which  hides  the  mountainous  islands  and  western  shore,  leaves 
its  expanse  as  limitless  as  that  of  the  open  ocean,  whence  no  salter 
breeze  could  blow  than  this  morning  air.  We  gradually  approach  the 
shore,  or  its  bays  bend  forward  to  our  straight  line,  and  we  leave  the 
fields  behind  to  skirt  and  cross  a  great  expanse  of  salt  whitened  mud 
flats,  where  chestnut-backed  plovers  flit  about  as  the  only  sign  of  life. 
On  higher  ground,  just  beyond,  a  frail  pier  or  landing  stage  runs  far  out 
into  the  lake,  where  is  moored  a  small  steamboat,  and  two  or  three  sail- 
boats rest  on  the  gently  ruffled  water.  This  is  a  bathing  resort  and 
picnic  grounds,  which  hereafter  will  be  made  more  of  than  at  present. 
Beyond,  for  miles  and  miles,  the  country  seems  to  have  been  one  contin- 
uous wheat-field,  for  the  golden  stubble  stretches  in  vast  unfenced 
spaces,  and  we  can  count  dozens  of  huge  yellow  stacks  that  have  been 
reaped.  A  long  ridge  of  dry  gravel  is  traversed,  a  vista  of  valley  land, 
filled  full  of  groves,  and  orchards,  market  gardens  and  neat  houses, 
opens  at  the  base  of  high  rocky  walls  and  the  locomotive  gives  its  last 
long  shriek,  for  this  is  Ogden,  the  terminus  of  our  westward  jaunt, — 
771  miles  from  Denver,  2,500  miles  from  New  York,  864  miles  from  San 
Francisco. 

When  luncheon  was  over,  I  sat  me  down  to  my  work,  and  the 
Madame  began  putting  on  her  hat,  making  quite  sure  that  it  was 
straight,  nor  leaving  the  neighborhood  of  the  mirror  until  wholly  satisfied 
on  that  head. 

"That  is  complimentary  to  Ogden!"  I  observe  with  a  rising 
inflection. 

"Not  particularly,"  she  answers  slowly.  "I  would  want  my  hat 
to  sit  straight  and  my  feather  be  right  if  I  were  going  into  a  camp  of 
Digger  Shoshones.  It  wouldn't  feel  right  otherwise." 

I  do  not  argue  the  question.  Turning  to  Chum  she  enquires  sweetly 
(ignoring  anybody  else)  if  he  will  go  with  her  on  a  stroll  of  exploration. 


322  THE  CHEST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

That  young  man  is  just  filling  his  pipe,  and  the  expression  of  anticipated 
delight  fades  utterly  from  his  countenance. 

"E-r-r,"  he  stammers,  thinking  how  he  may  escape.  "Thanks, 
thanks,  but  I  can't  very  well — I — I  have  letters  to  write,  you  know." 

"Yes,  I  know,  everybody  has,  under  certain  circumstances.  How- 
ever, I  can  go  alone.  Au  revoir  !  " 

Then  I  sit  down  at  work.  Chum  lights  his  pipe  and  lazily  scratches 
a  postal  card  to  keep  up  appearances,  and  silence  reigns  for  an  hour  or  so. 

It  is  put  at  end  by  our  lady's  return. 

"Well,  what  did  you  see?  "  we  both  ask. 

"Oh,  Ogden  is  a  big  collection  of  little  houses  and  behind  each 
house  is  a  pretty  little  farm  and  market  garden.  There  is  a  ledge 
beyond  the  main  part  of  the  town,  and  up  there  are  situated  the  better 
houses  of  the  city,  with  larger  gardens  and  lawns,  from  which  you  can 
look  off  over  the  wide  plain  with  bluffs  and  ridges,  in  the  foreground, 
catch  a  glimpse  of  the  lake  in  the  middle  distance,  and  a  vision  of 
sharp-pointed  mountains  on  the  horizon." 

Ogden  holds  interest  at  present,  chiefly— and  it  always  will  I  fancy 
—as  a  center  for  transportation  lines.  Here,  in  1869,  was  welded  into  a 
continuous  whole  the  first  line  of  rails  connecting  the  Atlantic  with  the 
Pacific.  This  is  the  scent-  of  Bret  Harte's  stirring  poem,  which  tells  us 

*    .     .     .    what  the  engines  said. 
Pilots  touching— head  to  head, 
Facing  on  a  single  track, 
Half  a  continent  at  each  back." 

That  event  was  an  occasion  of  public  rejoicing,  and  the  success  of 
those  lines  at  that  time  was  a  matter  of  public  concern. 

Since  her  one  line  east  and  west  was  first  connected,  Ogden  has 
seen  a  great  growth  in  railways.  The  traveller  may  now  go  northward 
into  the  mining  regions  of  southern  Idaho,  or  on  to  the  quartz  and 
placers  and  the  silver  ledges  of  Montana;  or,  still  further,  around  Peud' 
Oreille  and  Cosur  d'  Alene  and  down  the  majestic  Columbia  to  Oregon, 
Washington  Territory  and  British  Columbia;  he  may  go  westward  to 
California  and  the  Pacific;  he  may  go  southward  to  the  farms  and 
mines  of  southern  Utah;  or  eastward  into  the  heart  of  the  Rockies  and 
so  through  to  the  Atlantic  over  the  route  we  ourselves  have  just  passed. 

Ogden  has  some  thousands  of  people  claiming  it  as  home;  and 
besides  the  large  patronage  of  the  railways  it  is  the  supplying-center, 
and  the  market  for  a  considerable  farming  district  in  southern  Idaho.  It 
is  a  busy  and  enterprising  and  growing  town.  Its  union  station  is  a 
sort  of  narrows  through  which  the  larger  part  of  all  exchange  of  men 
and  goods  between  the  east  and  west  must  drain ;  and  there  is  excitement 
and  variety  enough  to  keep  alive  the  attention  of  the  dullest  witness. 
The  train  that  brought  us  in  the  morning  had  sent  a  merry  crowd  on  to 
San  Francisco— a  train-load  of  acquaintances  in  jolliest  mood,  for  the 


ENTRY  INTO  DESERET.  323 

other  incoming  trains  contributed  very  few  to  the  company  bound  west 
ward.  Now  the  arriving  train  of  the  Central  Pacific  poured  across  th« 
busy  platform  another  just  such  a  merry  company,  filling  the  cars  of  the 
Denver  and  Rio  Grande,  to  which  our  special  was  attached,  and  losing 
few  to  the  older  line. 

At  Salt  Lake  City,  that  evening,  our  faithful  Bert  had  a  good 
dinner  ready  for  us  almost  the  moment  we  returned;  and,  restored 
to  the  comforts  of  our  own  bed  and  board,  we  made  an  auspicious  and 
good-natured  entry  to  Zion,  and  to  Deseret,  the  chief  city  of  the  Latter 
Day  Saints. 


XXXV 

SALT  LAKE  CITY. 


"  I  have  described  in  my  ;lm3  many  cities,  both  of  the  east  and  west;  but  the  City  ot 
Che  Saints  puzzles  me.  It  is  the  young  rival  of  Mecca,  the  Zion  of  the  Mormons,  the  Lat- 
ter-day Jerusalem.  It  is  also  the  City  of  the  Honey  Bee,  'Deseret,'  and  the  City  of  the 
Sunflower  — an  encampment  as  of  pastoral  tribes,  the  tented  capital  of  some  Hyksos, 
'Shepherd  Kings' — the  rural  seat  of  a  modern  patriarchal  democracy;  the  place  of  the 
tabernacle  of  an  ancient  prophet-ruled  Theocracy." 

—PHIL  ROBINSON. 

T  was  on  a  Saturday  night  that  we  returned  to  Salt  Lake 
City.  It  followed,  therefore,  as  a  matter  of  course, 
that  the  ensuing  morning  was  Sunday.  Had  the  calen- 
der not  been  our  authority  we  might  have  known  it 
from  the  solemn  stillness  that  prevailed  —  a  contrast 
very  vivid  and  suggestive  after  our  experience  of  the 
Holy  Day  in  the  mountain  mining  towns. 

Everybody  was  eager  of  course  to  go  to  the  Tabernacle. 

The  Tabernacle  stands  inside  the  big  wall  surrounding  the  "  Temple 
block,"  and  could  have  been  found  by  simply  falling  in  with  any  one  of 
the  currents  of  Sunday-dressed  people  which  set  toward  it  from  every 
direction.  We  went  early  so  as  to  look  about  us  at  leisure. 

This  square  of  ten  acres  was  set  apart  for  temple  purposes  at  the 
founding  of  the  city,  and  there  the  pioneers  held  their  first  worship. 
There  was  built  the  building  known  as  the  Endowment  House,  and 
there,  thirty  years  ago,  were  laid  the  foundations  of  the  temple,  wherein 
(it  is  promised)  Jesus  Christ  shall  appear  bodily  to  the  faithful  as  soon  as 
it  is  completed.  Reared  to  a  height  of  eighty  feet  above  the  ground,  but 
not  yet  ready  for  the  roof,  its  snowy  walls  gleam  in  the  sun,  hot,  and 
dazzling. 

There  is  a  little  time  before  the  services  in  the  Tabernacle  and  we 
go  over  to  the  new  building,  picking  our  way  among  redoubts  of  the 
sparkling  blocks  of  granite.  A  picture  of  the  building  as  it  will  appear 
when  the  work  is  finished,  hung  under  glass,  at  the  closed  door  of  the 
superintendent's  office,  and  enabled  us  to  get  a  very  good  idea  of  how 
the  great  structure  would  look.  The  Madame  joined  the  rest  of  us 
in  admiration  for  the  massive  character  of  every  part  of  the  work. 

We  found  that  above  the  enormous  foundations  the  wall  had  a 
thickness  of  nine  feet,  which  decreases  to  seven  at  the  height  of  the  roof. 
Nor  was  this  wall  hollow,  or  filled  or  backed  with  brick  or  anything 

824 


/86  THE   CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

tflse,  but  was  made  solid  throughout  of  hewn  granite.  Even  the  pillars, 
the  partitions,  the  stairways,  the  floors  and  ceilings  in  many  apart- 
ments, were  of  solid  matched  stone,,  The  beveled  window  openings 
through  these  thick  walls  are  like  embrasures  of  a  fort;  and  the  many 
small  rooms  in  which  it  is  to  be  divided,  will  cause  the  structure  to  seem 
more  like  a  prison  than  a  religious  temple.  In  fact  it  is  not  designed  as 
a  house  of  worship, — the  Tabernacle  remains  for  that — but  is  intended 
as  a  sacred  edifice  within  which  various  ordinances  of  the  Church, 
closely  allied  to  those  of  Masonry,  now  performed  in  the  Endowment 
House,  shall  be  celebrated. 

The  external  ornamentation  of  the  great  building  is  original  and 
symbolical  in  its  plan.  The  wall  is  pierced  with  four  tiers  of  large  win- 
dows, the  second  and  fourth  tiers  being  circular.  The  keystone  of  each 
of  the  arches  over  these  windows,  as  well  as  over  the  various  doors, 
bears  a  star  in  high  relief;  and  between  the  windows  room  is  found  for 
three  tiers  of  circular  bosses,  eight  on  each  side,  upon  which  symbols 
will  be  carved  in  high  relief.  The  lowermost  of  these  rows  will  bear 
maps  of  various  parts  of  the  world ;  the  second  tier,  eight  phases  of  the 
moon;  and  the  topmost  tier  eight  blazing  suns.  The  suns,  moons  and 
stars  are  already  cut,  but  the  maps  of  the  earth  remain  to  be  carved. 

The  cost  of  the  temple  has  been  the  subject  of  much  public  ques- 
tioning and  careless  slander.  A  man  assured  us  that  it  had  cost  sixteen 
millions  of  dollars.  This  is  certainly  an  exaggeration.  I  have  the  word 
of  President  Taylor  that  the  total  cost  up  to  the  present  time  has  been 
about  two  millions  of  dollars,  derived  from  the  church  tithings.  The 
same  work  could  be  duplicated  now  for  a  far  less  sum;  but  a  large  part 
of  this  was  done  before  the  railway  was  built,  when  the  stone  had  to  be 
hauled  from  the  distant  quarries  by  ox  teams.  It  is  supposed  that 
another  million  dollars  and  two  years  more  time,  will  complete  and  fur- 
nish the  building.  That  will  be  a  great  day  for  Salt  Lake. 

By  the  time  we  had  finished  our  inspection  of  the  temple,  the  Tab- 
ernacle had  been  pretty  well  filled  by  the  crowds  of  people  who  poured 
into  its  many  doors.  One  of  these  streams  we  followed. 

The  Tabernacle  has  been  so  often  described  and  figured  that  I  need 
spend  little  time  over  it.  Imagine  an  elliptical  dome,  shingled,  set  upon 
a  circle  of  stone  piers  about  twenty  feet  in  height,  and  you  will  have  an 
image  of  this  extraordinary  building.  Were  it  set  upon  an  eminence  it 
would  be  as  grand  in  its  place  (perfectly  fitting  Utah  scenery  in  its 
severely  simple  outlines)  as  the  Acropolis  at  Athens. 

Service  in  the  Tabernacle  is  held  on  Sundays  at  two  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon.  The  people  assemble  not  only  from  the  city  but  from  all  the 
country  around.  Women  and  children  are  in  great  force.  The  great 
amphitheatre  supplies  seats  for  thirteen  thousand  people,  and  it  is 
nearly  filled  every  Sunday.  A  broad  gallery  closes  around  at  the  front 
end  where  the  choir  sit  in  two  wings,  facing  each  other — the  men  on  one 


THE  TABERNACLE.  327 

side  and  the  young  women  on  the  other.  The  space  between  is  filled  by 
the  splendid  organ  (back  high  up  against  the  wall)  and  by  three  long, 
crimson-cushioned  pulpit-desks,  in  each  of  which  twenty  speakers  or  so 
can  sit  at  once,  each  rank  overlooking  the  heads  of  the  one  beneath. 
The  highest  of  these  belongs  to  the  president  and  his  two  counselors; 
the  second  to  the  twelve  apostles,  and  the  lowest  to  the  bishops.  The 
acoustic  properties  of  the  building  are  wonderful ;  a  person  standing  in  a 
certain  space  near  one  end,  can  hear  the  gentlest  whisper,  or,  that  univer- 
sal test,  a  pinfall,  from  quite  the  other  end.  A  former  deficiency  of  light, 
has  been  overcome  by  the  use  of  gas  and  electricity;  and  the  chilling 
barrenness  of  the  vast  whitewashed  and  unbroken  vault  is  relieved  by  a 
liberal  hanging  of  evergreen  festoons,  and  trailing  wreaths  of  flowers 
made  of  colored  tissue  paper.  These  trimmings  are  far  enough  away 
from  the  eye,  and  in  masses  of  sufficient  size  to  make  their  effect  very 
satisfactory. 

Every  Sunday  the  sacrament  is  administered,  the  tables  loaded  with 
the  baskets  of  bread  and  silver  tankards  of  water  (never  wine)  occupying 
a  dais  at  the  foot  of  the  pulpits,  upon  which  several  bishops  take  their 
places,  and  break  the  bread  into  fragments.  Precisely  at  two  o'clock 
the  great  organ  sends  forth  its  melodious  invocation,  and  the  subdued 
noise  of  neighborly  gossip,  which,  as  the  Madame  said,  "  seemed  the 
veritable  humming  of  the  honey  bees  of  Deseret  in  their  house  hive,"  is 
wholly  hushed.  The  music  at  the  Tabernacle  is  far-famed  in  the  west, 
and  gives  constant  delight  to  all  the  people.  The  singing  is  followed  by 
a  long  prayer  by  some  one  of  the  dignitaries  in  or  about  the  pulpits, 
during  which  the  time  is  utilized  to  prepare  the  bread  and  water;  and  as 
soon  as  the  prayer  has  ceased  a  large  number  of  brethren  begin  to  pass 
the  sacred  food  and  drink.  Everybody,  old  and  young,  partakes,  and 
it  is  an  hour  and.  a  half  before  the  communion  is  completed.  Mean- 
while some  one  of  the  highest  officers  of  the  church,  or  perhaps  two 
or  three  of  them  in  succession,  has  been  preaching;  so  that  two  long 
hours  are  exhausted  before  dismissal.  Such  was  the  experience  of  our 
visit,  and  it  was  an  average  occasion. 

The  history  of  Salt  Lake  City  is  the  history  of  the  "  Mormons,"— of 
the  Church  of  the  Latter-Day  Saints  in  Utah.  It  begins  on  the  24th  of 
July,  1847,  when  Brigharn  Young,  leading  the  people,  who  likened  their 
pilgrimage  to  a  second  exodus  of  Israel,  emerged  from  the  long  canon  that 
had  let  them  through  the  westernmost  range  of  the  Rockies.  As  the  head 
of  the  weary  train  passed  the  last  barrier  they  saw  spread  before  their 
eager  vision  a  huge  basin— miles  of  sage-green,  velvety  slopes,  sweeping 
down  on  every  side  from  the  bristling  mountain-rim  to  the  azure  surface 
of  the  Salt  sea  set  in  the  center. 

Here,  their  leader  told  them,  the  Lord  commanded  a  halt ;  here  his 
tabernacle  should  be  raised.  It  was  done,  and  to-day  a  populous  city 
stands  on  the  site  of  the  first  camp  of  the  religious  host,— a  city  as  baffling 


328  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

to  describe  in  its  appearance,  in  its  social  aspects,  in  its  pervading  senti- 
ment as  any  which  can  be  found  in  Christendom.  It  was  with  an 
intense  sympathy  for  Mr.  Robinson,  that  I  listened  to  the  Madame  read- 
ing the  opening  paragraph  of  the  fifth  chapter  of  his  "  Sinners  and 
Saints,"  a  part  of  which  I  have  selected  as  the  motto  of  the  present 
chapter. 

Yes,  like  Mr.  Robinson,  I  would  have  liked  "  to  shirk  this  part  of 
my  experiences  altogether,"  but  the  reader  would  never  have  pardoned 
me.  "What?  Leave  out  Salt  Lake  City!"  I  hear  you  exclaim, 
"  What's  the  good  of  mentioning  Utah  at  all,  if  you  do  that?  " 

Well,  to  begin  with,  the  city  is  not  on  the  lake  nor  within  a  score  o) 
miles  of  it.  When  the  pioneers  came  they  descended  to  the  foot  of  the 
last  "  bench  "  in  which  the  foothills  yield  their  rights  to  the  plain,  and 
there  made  their  camp.  In  the  same  spot  was  founded  the  city.  It  was 
quite  as  good  a  locality  as  any  other,  no  doubt  they  thought,  considering 
that  the  whole  region  alike  was  nothing  but  a  plain  of  sagebrush. 
Indeed,  you  cannot  see  the  lake  at  all  from  the  city,  except  by  going  up 
upon  the  "bench"  of  higher  ground  to  the  northward  and  eastward, 
whence  it  appears  only  as  a  line  of  distinct  color  between  the  dusty  olive 
of  the  wide  foreground,  and  the  vague  blue  of  the  distant  hills. 

The  habitations  of  the  pioneers  were  not  built  hastily  and  at  ran- 
dom. Brigham  Young  caused  a  town-site  to  be  carefully  surveyed  and 
accurately  laid  out,  and  it  was  done  on  a  generous  scale.  The  streets 
were  made  one  hundred  and  thirty  feet  wide,  placed  true  to  the  points  of 
the  compass  and  crossing  one  another  at  right  angles.  Each  square  con- 
tains ten  acres,  so  that  when  the  Madame  and  I  merely  walked  "  around 
the  block  "  while  I  smoked  a  post-prandial  cigarette,  we  tramped  precisely 
half  a  mile.  A  square  of  nine  blocks  was  made  to  constitute  a  "  ward  " 
•-now  the  city  has  twenty-four — presided  over  by  a  bishop  of  the 
church.  Despite  his  title,  he  was  more  a  temporal  than  a  spiritual  head, 
deciding  all  small  matters  in  dispute  in  those  simple  first  days  when  there 
was  no  appeal,  nor  desire  for  one,  from  ecclesiastical  decisions  to  civil 
.-judgment.  Even  yet,  this  ward  classification  enters  largely  into  the 
social  constitution  of  the  city. 

When  the  streets  and  wards  had  been  determined  each  pioneer  was 
given  an  acre  and  a  quarter  as  a  town  lot,  and  as  much  outside  land 
as  he  could  occupy.  This  accounts  in  a  great  measure  for  the  ample 
space  and  farm-like  appearance  of  the  grounds  around  most  of  the  houses 
in  this  widely  dispersed  city. 

To  make  this  real  estate  of  value,  however,  water  for  irrigation 
must  be  brought  to  it.  This  was  supplied  by  the  "City  "  creek  flowing 
down  from  Emigration  canon,  whose  current  was  led  into  ditches  all 
over  the  new  colony,  and  still  fills  the  roadside  gutters  with  sparkling 
streams,  nourishing  many  gardens,  and  the  roots  of  the  long  lines  of 
varied  shade  trees,  whose  boughs  almost  reach  over  the  thoroughfares. 


EARLY  DATS  IN  SALT  LAKE  CITY.  329 

AH  the  brethren  worked  in  common  at  this  ditching,  and  it  was  done  so 
soon  that  within  a  few  days  after  their  arrival  seeds  had  been  put  in  the 
ground  for  the  first  crop. 

"Yes,"  says  the  Madame,  as  I  relate  this  history,  "and  they  say 
that  old  Jim  Bridger  watched  them  cynically  and  said  they  were  a  pack 
of— well,  no  matter  what  kind  of  fools,  and  that  he  would  give  a  thou- 
sand dollars  for  the  first  ear  of  corn  raised  there." 

"  That's  said  to  be  true,"  I  assent. 

"But  he  had  to  acknowledge  the  corn,"  Chum  puts  in — and  flees! 

Formerly  this  water  alone  was  available  for  domestic  purposes  and 
<drinking,  as  well  as  for  irrigation,  and  even  yet  the  poorer  part  of 
the  population  dip  it  up  at  the  curbstone  for  daily  service.  But  the 
introduction  of  pipes  and  hydrants  has  now  superseded  this  old  way, 
though  the  water  is  no  better;  for  table  use,  therefore,  the  sweet  pure 
beverage  drawn  from  very  deep  wells  is  preferred.  Experiments  are 
making  in  this  respect  to  artesian  wells  also. 

The  houses  built  by  the  first  settlers  were  mainly  log  cabins,  and 
some  relics  are  still  to  be  found  hidden  away  in  blossoming  orchards. 
The  Spanish-American  adobe  house  was  also  a  favorite,  and  has  continued 
so  to  the  present,  though  instead  of  almost  shapeless  chunks  of  mud, 
plastered  in  Mexican  fashion,  regular  imburnt  bricks  are  made  by 
machinery.  These  adobes  are  twice  the  size  of  ordinary  bricks,  and  the 
wall  into  which  they  are  formed  is  made  twice  as  thick  as  one  of  burned 
bricks  would  be.  Of  course  this  material  lends  itself  to  any  style  of 
architecture,  and  many  of  the  elaborate  buildings,  as  well  as  cheap  cot- 
tages, are  made  of  it,  the  soft  gray  tint  of  the  natural  adobe,  or  the  gentle 
tone  of  some  overlying  stucco  harmonizing  most  tastefully  with  the 
crowding  greenery.  Low  houses,  with  abundant  piazzas  and  many 
nondescript  additions,  are  the  most  common  type  in  the  older  part  of 
the  town;  and  over  these  so  many  vines  are  trained,  and  so  much  foliage 
clusters,  that  one  can  hardly  say  of  what  material  the  structure  itself  is 
formed.  The  residences  recently  built  have  a  more  eastern  and  conven- 
tional aspect,  and  some  are  very  imposing;  but,  big  or  little,  old  or  new, 
it  is  rare  to  find  a  house  not  ensconced  in  trees  and  shrubs  and  climbing 
plants,  while,  smooth,  rich,  well-shaven  lawns  greet  the  eye  everywhere 
in  town,  in  brilliant  contrast  to  the  bleak  hills  towering  overhead  just 
without  the  city.  As  for  flowers,  no  town  east  or  west  cultivates  them 
more  universally  and  assiduously. 

"  There  are  no  florists  here,"  says  the  Madame. 

"And  no  need  for  any — each  man  has  his  own  plants  if  not  the 
luxury  of  a  greenhouse." 

Salt  Lake  City,  then,  is  beautiful — a  paradise  in  comparison  with 

the  buffalo  plains  or  the  stony  gulches  in  which  the  majority  of  Rocky 

Mountain  towns  must  needs  be  set.    Nor  is  there  any  question  as  to  the 

fact  that  this  is  wholly  to  the  credit  of  the  Mormons — not  because  they 

14* 


330  THE   CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

were  Mormons,  but  because  they  were  diligent  and  foresighted,  and 
came  hither  not  to  make  a  fortune  and  escape,  but  to  stay  and  build  up 
pleasant  homes  and  a  prosperous  commonwealth.  Any  other  set  of  men 
might  have  done  the  same;  but  certainly  no  other  set  of  men  did,  for  to 
no  others  was  presented  the  same  compelling  motive. 

The  suburbs— except  toward  the  rocky  uplands  northward — grade 
off  quite  imperceptibly,  the  streets  continuing  straight  out  into  country 
roads  between  dense  jungles  of  sunflowers, — glorious  walls  of  gold,  and 
green;  and  in  these  suburbs  you  may  find  some  of  the  queerest,  most 
idyllic  cottages. 

The  two  broad  distinctions  of  "Mormon"  and  "Gentile,"  are  not 
enough  to  represent  the  elements  of  Salt  Lake  society.  At  least  three 
divisions  ought  to  be  counted.  First,  the  Latter-day  Saints;  second,  the 
seceders  from  the  Mormon  Church;  third,  the  Gentiles  —  respectable 
people,  mostly  attendants  at  Christian  churches. 

"  Such  a  classification  must  make  queer  comrades,"  remarks  Chum, 
as  we  sit  talking  over  these  matters. 

"I  should  say  so,"  I  reply,  "the  Jew  becomes  a  Gentile,  and  the 
Roman  Catholic  becomes  a  Protestant,  making  common  cause  with 
Calvinism  against  the  hierarchy  of  the  Temple." 

"I  do  not  suppose,"  the  Madame  observes,  "that  they  can  sink 
their  own  little  differences,  although  allied  in  one  fight;  so  that  society 
must  necessarily  be  divided  into  a  lot  of  little  groups,  and  thus  lose 
a  great  deal." 

"Yes,  the  people  who  profess  no  religious  adherence  have  rather 
the  easiest  time  of  it  in  Salt  Lake,  I  believe." 

The  non-Mormon  part  of  the  citizens  probably  enjoy  themselves 
more  than  they  would  if  the  isolation  of  the  locality  did  not  compel 
them  to  be  self-centered  and  contrive  their  own  amusements  to  a  great 
extent.  It  is  a  society  made  up  of  the  families  of  successful  merchants 
and  mining  men,  of  clergymen  and  teachers,  of  the  officers  of  the  army 
stationed  at  Camp  Douglass,  and  the  representatives  of  the  government 
in  the  judicial  and  other  territorial  offices.  This  composition,  it  will  be 
seen,  presupposes  considerable  intelligence  and  cultivation.  It  was  not 
until  Gentile  gold  came  in  to  break  up  the  old  custom  of  barter,  that  the 
resources  of  the  Mormon  community  became  really  available  either  to 
themselves  or  to  others. 

Utah  has  always  been  pre-eminently  an  agricultural  district.  Out  of 
her  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  people  probably  one  hundred  and 
twenty  thousand  are  now  farming  or  stock-raising  in  some  capacity  or 
other.  When  you  look  down  the  valley  from  the  city,  your  eye  takes  in 
a  wide  view  of  fields,  orchards  and  meadows,  green  with  the  most  luxur- 
iant growth,  and  marked  off  by  rows  of  stately  trees  or  patches  of  young 
woodland.  All  these  farms  are  small  holdings,  and  though  cultivated 


332  THE  GRE8T  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

by  no  means  scientifically,  have  long  produced  well  up  to  their  several 
capacities. 

The  exports  of  all  sorts  of  grain,  produce  and  fruit  are  large,  and 
increasing,  thanks  to  this  new  railway  of  ours  and  its  encouraging  rates 
of  freight. 

The  Mormon  leaders,  and  particularly  Brigham  Young,  at  first 
opposed  any  attempt  at  a  development  of  the  mineral  resources  of  the 
territory,  though  the  latter  is  said  to  have  been  well  informed  of  their 
character  and  value.  He  forbade  all  mining  to  his  people,  and  would 
have  closed  the  mountains  to  Gentile  prospectors  if  he  had  been  able. 
So  far  as  a  desire  existed  to  avoid  the  evils  of  a  placer-working  excite- 
ment, drawing  hither  a  horde  of  gold-seekers,  this  course  was  a  wise 
one ;  but  as  years  went  on,  it  was  seen  by  the  shrewder  heads  among  the 
Mormons  themselves  that  this  abstinence  from  mining  was  harmful. 
There  was  no  cash  in  the  treasury,  and  none  to  be  got  (I  am  speaking  of 
early  days).  If  a  surplus  of  grain  was  raised,  or  more  of  any  sort  of 
goods  manufactured  than  could  be  used  at  home,  there  was  no  sale  for 
them,  since  at  that  time,  the  market  was  so  far  away  that  the  profits 
would  all  be  lost  in  the  expense  of  transportation. 

It  is  funny  to  hear  the  tales  of  those  days.  Business  was  almost 
wholly  by  barter,  and  payments  for  everything  had  to  be  made  by 
exchange.  A  man  who  took  his  family  to  the  theatre  wheeled  his 
admission  fee  with  him  in  the  shape  of  a  barrel  or  two  of  potatoes,  and 
a  young  man  would  go  to  a  dance  with  his  girl  on  one  arm  and  a  bunch 
of  turnips  on  the  other  with  which  to  buy  his  ticket.  Gentile  emigrants 
and  settlers  soon  began  to  bring  in  coin,  but  the  relief  was  gradual  and 
inadequate. 

Finally,  about  fifteen  years  ago,  it  was  publicly  argued  by  more 
liberal  minds  that  the  only  things  Utah  had  which  she  could  send  out 
against  competition  were  gold  and  silver.  When,  from  preaching  they 
began  to  practice,  and  enterprising  men  encouraged  outside  capital  to 
join  them  in  developing  silver  ledges  in  the  Wasatch  and  Oquirrh 
ranges,  then  Salt  Lake  City  began  to  rouse  herself.  Potatoes  and  carrots 
and  adobes  disappeared  as  currency,  and  coin  and  greenbacks  enlivened 
trade  which  more  and  more  conformed  to  the  ordinary  methods  of 
American  commerce. 

One  quite  legitimate  means  taken  for  centralizing  of  trade  was  the 
establishment,  twenty-five  years  ago,  of  Zion's  Cooperative  Mercantile 
Institution.  In  the  early  days  it  was  extremely  difficult  for  country 
shopkeepers  to  maintain  supplies  when  everything  had  to  be  hauled  by 
teams  from  the  Missouri  river,  and  the  most  extortionate  prices  would  be 
demanded  for  staples,  whenever,  as  frequently  happened,  a  petty  dealer 
would  get  a  "corner"  on  some  article.  A  few  great  fortunes  were 
quickly  made,  but  a  stop  was  put  to  this  by  setting  on  foot  the 


EDUCATIONAL  FACILITIES  OF  UTAH.  833 

cooperative  establishment,  which  was  imitated  in  a  small  way  in  many 
rural  settlements. 

The  design  of  this  institution  was  to  furnish  goods  of  every  sort 
known  to  merchants  out  of  one  central  depot  in  Salt  Lake  City  under 
control  of  the  Church  and  partly  owned  by  it.  This  was  a  joint-stock 
"cooperative"  affair,  however,  and  the  capital  was  nearly  a  million 
dollars.  The  people  were  advised  from  the  pulpit  to  trade  there, 
but  they  would  have  done  so  anyhow,  for  the  "  Coop,"  as  they  called  it, 
was  able  to  reduce  and  equalize  prices  very  greatly.  Branches  wrere 
established  in  Ogden,  Logan,  Soda  Springs,  and  lately  a  warehouse 
built  in  Provo.  These  and  other  additions  were  rapid.  The  central 
salesrooms  in  this  city  now  occupy  a  four-story  brick  building,  three 
hundred  and  eighteen  feet  long  by  ninety-seven  wide,  where  every 
species  of  merchandise  is  to  be  found.  In  other  quarters  are  a  drug- 
store, a  shoe  factory  (supplied  by  its  own  tanneries  and  running  one 
hundred  and  twenty-five  machines  propelled  by  steam),  and  a  factory  for 
making  canvas  "  overall  "  clothing.  Altogether  about  two  hundred  and 
fifty  persons  are  employed,  working  reasonable  hours  and  for  reasonable 
wages.  The  stock,  which  originally  was  widely  scattered,  has  been 
concentrated  for  the  most  part  in  the  hands  of  a  few  astute  men,  who  are 
credited  with  large  profits.  There  is  an  air  of  great  prosperity  about  the 
institution,  whose  business  is  stated  to  reach  five  million  dollars  annually, 
derived  almost  wholly  from  Utah. 

Though  this  concern  had  a  practical  monopoly  at  first,  as  soon  as 
the  railways  came  to  Salt  Lake,  individual  merchants  could  sell  goods 
about  as  cheap,  and  opposition  to  it  arose. 

Religious  competition  has  arisen.  Among  the  first  of  these  local 
Protestants  was  a  mission  of  the  Roman  Catholics.  Now  they  have 
a  considerable  colony  here  and  in  Ogden.  The  St.  Mary's  Academy,  in 
charge  of  the  Sisters  of  the  Holy  Cross,  has  a  large  building,  beautiful 
grounds,  and  the  reputation  of  being  a  first  class  higher  school  for  girls. 
There  is  a  school  for  little  boys  in  the  same  enclosure.  The  boarders  at 
the  Academy  amount  to  about  one  hundred  annually,  and  the  day  scholars 
to  one  hundred  and  fifty.  The  Sisters  of  the  Holy  Cross  also  have 
charge  of  a  large  and  finely-conducted  hospital  in  the  eastern  part  of 
the  city. 

Another  hospital  is  the  St.  Marks,  supported  partly  by  monthly 
dues  from  miners,  and  otherwise  by  special  contributions.  This  is 
in  charge  of  the  Episcopal  Church,  which  has  been  active  in  Utah  for 
many  years  under  the  guidance  of  Bishop  Tuttle.  St.  Mark's  School, 
belonging  to  the  local  church  organization,  had  three  hundred  and  thirty 
pupils  during  its  last  term.  The  Methodist  Episcopal  denomination, 
also,  has  churches  scattered  about  the  territory  and  schools  in  Salt  Lake 
City,  among  the  rest  night  schools  for  Chinamen,  who  are  an  important 
element  of  the  population.  The  Presbyterian  Church  has  set  up  here  a 


334  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

Collegiate  Institute,  owning  property  worth  about  seventy-five  thousand 
dollars  and  giving  instruction  to  about  two  hundred  pupils,  from  the 
primary  to  a  high-school  grade.  This  is  unsectarian,  as,  I  suppose,  are 
all  the  rest  so  far  as  any  active  religious  pressure  is  brought  to  bear. 
The  most  exclusive  school,  probably,  is  that  sustained  by  the  Hebrew 
Society.  As  in  other  western  towns  the  Jews  are  in  large  force  in  Salt 
Lake  City,  their  characteristic  names  occurring  on  many  a  signboard. 

The  Mormons  themselves  sustain  a  system  of  public  schools,  in 
which,  in  addition  to  the  usual  branches,  the  tenets  of  their  faith  are 
taught.  These  schools  are  well  conducted  and  will  compare  favorabty 
with  those  in  any  city  the  same  size. 

Salt  Lake  City  is  a  great  center  of  wholesale  trade  in  provisions  and 
textile  fabrics  not  only,  but  in  machinery  and  mining  supplies.  She  has 
smelters;  a  lead-paint  factory;  foundries  and  boiler  works;  sampling- 
mills  handling  two  hundred  tons  of  ore  a  day,  brought  from  far  and 
near;  breweries,  carriage  and  furniture  shops;  and  all  sorts  of  small  fac- 
tories. Traction  engines  and  locomotives,  if  not  wholly  built  there,  are 
reconstructed;  and  complicated  machinery  of  other  sorts  is  manufac- 
tured. Her  salt  business,  now  that  a  liberal  minded  railway  has  come  to 
her  relief,  is  likely  to  become  of  the  greatest  importance,  which  will  be 
a  benefit  to  her,  not  only,  but  to  all  the  smelters  and  chlorodization 
works  in  the  Rocky  Mountain  region. 

The  city  grows  rapidly  and  becomes  daily  more  cultivated  and 
beautiful,  and  less  mtre.  Every  appliance  of  civilization  is  utilized,  and 
she  has  the  best  hotels  by  far  between  Denver  and  San  Francisco- 
some  think  even  better  than  either,  but  that  is  an  extravagant  estimate. 
Statistics  show  that  six  hundred  new  houses  were  built,  five  hundred 
and  seventy-four  of  them  dwellings,  at  a  cost  of  $1,636,500.  By  the 
time  the  next  census  is  taken,  in  1890,  she  may  contain  fifty  thousand 
inhabitants.  The  Madame  and  I  thought  we  would  rather  make  our 
home  in  Salt  Lake  than  in  any  town  west  of  the  Plain.*  •  but  Chum  casi 
his  vote  in  favor  of  Denver. 


XXXVI 

SALT  LAKE  AND  THE  WASATCH. 


Behind,  the  silent  snows;  and  wide  below, 

The  rounded  hills  made  level,  lessening  down 
To  where  a  river  washed  with  sluggish  flow 
A  many-templed  town. 

— BAYABD  TAYLOB. 

NE  day  we  all  went  out  to  the  great  Salt  Lake,  as  in  duty 
bound.  You  might  as  well  go  to  Mecca  and  fail  to  see 
the  tomb  of  the  Prophet,  as  to  visit  Deseret  and  avoid 
the  lake.  It  is  a  ride  of  twenty  miles  by  rail,  and  the 
fare  for  the  round  trip  is  only  fifty  cents.  Two  trains 
are  run  every  day  in  summer,  and  they  are  especially 
well-filled  on  Sundays.  The  cars  used  are  chiefly  open  ones,  with  seats 
crosswise,  like  those  run  to  Brighton  and  the  other  Beaches  from  New 
York,  and  it  would  be  good  fun  in  itself  to  go  racing  in  this  free  way 
across  the  breezy  desert  between  the  city  and  the  lake,  even  if  there  were 
not  the  salt  waves  at  the  end  of  the  journey. 

For,  of  course,  the  only  object  in  going  to  the  lake — or  at  any  rate 
the  prime  object — is  the  bathing.  There  are  two  or  three  landings,  all 
much  alike,  and  not  far  apart;  which  one  it  was  we  stopped  at,  I  have 
forgotten,  and  it  doesn't  matter.  One  is  called  Garfield  and  another 
Black  Rock,  after  a  great  cubic  mass  of  lava  that  stands  out  of  the 
water  a  little  way  from  shore  like  the  end  of  a  huge  ruined  pier. 

Unfortunately  it  is  impossible  to  make  trees  grow  at  the  shore.  The 
water  and  the  soil  are  too  bitterly  salt;  moreover,  there  is  no  fresh 
water  in  the  rocky  hills  of  the  Oquirrh  that  tower  straight  up  from  the 
beach,  and  irrigation  is  thus  forestalled.  In  lieu  of  this,  a  few  wide- 
verandahed  houses  and  open  sheds  exist,  with  several  booths  made  of 
boughs  and  evergreens,  under  which  are  long  tables  and  benches  for  the 
accommodation  of  those  who  bring  their  lunches.  Nearly  every  day 
you  will  see  these  bowers  half -filled  with  picnic  parties  who  have  come 
to  spend  the  day;  and  there  are  frequent  excursions  from  the  city, 
where  large  parties  go  out  in  the  evening,  dance  all  night  and  return  by 
a  special  train  in  the  early  morning. 

At  the  edge  of  the  water  are  rows  of  dressing  closets  where  the 
bathing  suits  are  donned  and  whence  you  go  by  stairways  directly  into 
the  water.  No  special  hours  are  thought  preferable.  Men  and  women  go 
in  under  a  noonday  blaze  that  makes  the  brain  swim  on  shore,  and 


336  THE   CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

assert  that  their  bare  heads  suffer  no  discomfort.  We  thought  their 
crania  must  be  harder  than  ours,  however,  and  postponed  our  dip  till 
the  cool  of  the  evening. 

While  the  danger  of  sunstroke  seems  very  small  —  the  rarity  and 
purity  of  the  air  get  the  credit  for  this — the  lake  is  a  treacherous  place 
for  swimmers.  The  great  density  of  its  waters  sustains  you  so  that  you 
float  easily,  but  for  the  same  reason  swimming  ahead  is  very  tiresome 
work.  Moreover,  fatal  consequences  are  likely  to  ensue  if  any  consider- 
able quantity  of  the  brine  is  swallowed.  It  not  only  chokes,  but  is 
described  as  fairly  burning  the  tissues  of  the  throat  and  lungs,  produc- 
ing death  almost  as  surely  as  the  inhalation  of  flame.  Of  course  this 
occurs  in  exceptional  cases  only,  but  many  persons  suffer  extremely 
from  a  single  accidental  swallow.  I  remind  the  Madame  of  this  as  I 
lead  her  rather  timid  feet  down  the  steps,  and  add  that  most  of  the 
sufferers  hitherto  have  been  women. 

"  That's  because  they  can't  keep  their  mouths  shut  even  on  pain  of 
death,"  remarks  Chum,  with  malice  aforethought.  For  this  remark, 
some  day,  I  have  no  doubt,  he  will  be  called  to  account,  by  my  wife, 
who  seems  more  worried  at  present,  however,  to  keep  the  brine  out  of 
her  hair  than  out  of  her  mouth. 

The  powerful  effect  of  this  water  is  not  surprising  when  one  remem- 
bers that  the  proportion  of  saline  matter — about  twenty  per  cent. — in  it  is 
six  times  as  great  as  the  percentage  of  the  ocean,  and  almost  equal  to 
that  of  the  Dead  Sea,  though  Lake  Oroomiah,  in  Persia,  is  reputed 
to  contain  water  of  a  third  greater  density  yet.  This  density  is  due 
mainly  to  common  salt  held  in  solution,  but  there  are  various  other 
ingredients.  In  Great  Salt  Lake,  for  example,  only  0.52  per  cent,  of  mag- 
nesia exists,  the  Dead  Sea  having  7.82  per  cent.;  of  lime,  Salt  Lake 
holds  1.80  per  cent.,  while  the  Dead  Sea  contains  only  a  third  as  much. 
As  you  look  into  it  the  water  seems  marvelously  transparent,  so  that  the 
ripple-marked  sand  and  pebbles  at  the  bottom  show  with  strange  distinct- 
ness. This  is  usually  adduced  as  an  evidence  of  its  purity,  and  in 
one  sense  it  is  so;  but  it  is  also  the  result  of  its  density,  since  the  invisi- 
ble particles  of  salt  in  it,  catch  and  carry  the  light  to  far  greater  depths 
than  it  would  be  able  to  penetrate  in  distilled  water,  which,  also,  would 
be  perfectly  clear.  The  crystal  clearness  and  intense  color  of  the  water 
of  the  Mediterranean  is  noticed  by  all  travellers;  but  it  is  also  the  fact 
that  the  Mediterranean  is  considerably  salter  than  the  open  Atlantic. 

Great  flocks  of  gulls  and  pelicans  inhabit  the  upper  part  of  the  lake 
and  breed  upon  the  shores  and  islands;  what  they  all  find  to  eat  is  a 
mystery.  No  vegetation  can  survive  where  the  spray  of  these  bitter 
waves  has  dashed,  save  a  miserable  little  saltwort  and  a  melancholy  spe- 
cies of  Artemisia,  whose  straggling  and  thorny  limbs  appear  black  and 
burnt  on  the  scorching  sands.  Salt  is  made  in  great  quantities  in  sum- 
mer, by  the  simple  process  of  damming  small  bays  and  letting  the 


CAPTURING    WILD  HORSES.  337 

enclosed  water  evaporate,  leaving  a  crust  of  crystallized  salt  behind. 
Several  thousands  of  tons  are  exported  annually,  and  great  quantities 
used  at  home  in  chlorodizing  silver  ores. 

I  think  few  persons  realize  how  wonderfully,  strangely  beautiful 
this  inland,  saline  sea  is.  Under  the  sunlight  its  wide  surface  gives  the 
eye  such  a  mass  of  brilliant  color  as  is  rarely  seen  in  the  temperate  zone. 
Over  against  the  horizon  it  is  almost  black,  then  ultramarine,  then 
glowing  Prussian  blue;  here,  close  at  hand,  variegated  with  patches  of 
verdigris  green  and  the  soft,  skyey  tone  of  the  turquoise.  If  the  lake 
were  in  a  plain  (remembering  the  total  absence  of  forest  or  greensward) 
doubtless  this  richness  of  color  would  not  suffice  to  produce  the  effect  of 
beauty,  but  on  every  side  stand  lofty  mountains.  They  seem  to  rise 
from  the  very  margin  to  their  riven,  bare  and  pinnacle-studded 
crests  spotted  with  snow,  though  some  of  them  are  miles  beyond  the 
water's  edge. 

Two  mountainous  islands  stand  prominently  in  view  at  the  lower 
end  of  the  lake — Church  and  Antelope.  On  the  former  some  two  thou- 
sand head  of  cattle  are  pastured.  The  latter  has  a  less  prosaic  history, 
though  at  present  similarly  utilized  as  grazing-land.  When  the  Mor- 
mons first  came  hither  they  wintered  their  cattle  and  horses  upon  it. 
The  eastern  side  of  the  island  contains  some  farming  land,  and  a  quarry 
of  roofing-slate. 

An  obliging  gentleman  told  us  all  about  the  island,  and  also  gave  an 
account  of  what  must  have  been  an  exciting  chase.  He  said  that  until 
two  or  three  years  ago  there  roamed  upon  the  island  a  remnant  of  the 
horse-herds  once  pastured  there,  numbering  fifty  or  sixty  horses  and 
mares.  These  were  as  wild  as  wild  could  be,  and  grazed  upon  the 
western  side  of  the  island,  which  is  very  broken  and  rocky,  and  trav- 
ersed by  narrow  trails  that  the  horses  had  worn  in  the  hillsides.  It  was 
decided  to  attempt  to  capture  some  or  all  of  these  horses  and  a  novel 
method  of  snaring  was  adopted.  Nooses  were  made  at  the  ends  of  long 
lines  which  were  securely  anchored ;  the  nooses  were  then  hung  in  the 
bushes  in  such  a  way  as  to  overhang  the  trail  at  the  proper  height. 
Several  mounted  men  then  got  behind  a  few  of  the  wild  herd,  and  drove 
them  as  furiously  as  they  could  frighten  them  forward  along  the  narrow 
trails.  Overcome  with  terror  the  leading  animal  never  saw  the  dang- 
ling rope,  but  rushed  his  head  through  the  noose  and  was  instantly 
jerked  off  the  trail.  Tearing  wildly  past  him  half  a  dozen  others,  one  by 
one  went  into  as  many  consecutive  snares  and  were  caught.  Bancroft  Librarr 

As  each  horse  was  caught,  one  of  the  pursuers  would  hasten  to  him 
as  rapidly  as  possible,  fasten  the  end  of  the  lariat  to  the  horn  of  his  sad- 
dle, and  then  lose  no  time  in  loosening  the  noose  about  the  captive's 
neck,  which  by  that  time  would  have  choked  the  poor  beast  almost  into 
insensibility.  This  done,  he  would  leave  the  wild  and  tame  animals 
tied  together,  to  fight  it  out,  and  hurry  on  to  help  his  companions.  In 
15 


338  THE  CREST  OF  THE   CONTINENT. 

this  way  several  horses  were  captured,   and  proved  very  docile  and 
capable  when  put  in  the  harness. 

The  story  has  scarcely  been  concluded,  when  we  are  called  to 
our  homeward-bound  train.  It  is  just  at  sunset — the  western  horizon  a 
fountain  of  fiery  gold  seen  through  a  saffron  veil  of  ineffable  splendor. 
The  air  seems  to  become  saturated  —  thick  with  color  throughout  the 
whole  space  between  us  and  the  horizon.  The  mountains  shine  through 
this  veil  in  a  sharply  defined  mass,  not  a  single  feature  visible,  but  their 
whole  silhouette  washed  in  with  a  fiat  tint  of  marvelous  softness  and 
inimitable  delicacy.  Yet  it  changes,  almost  every  instant,  and  grad- 
ually, as  the  orb  disappears  behind  the  island,  and  the  cloth  of  gold  laid 
down  for  his  feet  across  the  lake,  is  drawn  away,  the  island-hills  and  the 
jagged  sierras  beyond  settle  into  cold  ashy  blue,  and  the  coolness  of 
approaching  night  already  fans  our  cheeks. 

Another  day  we  made  an  excursion  up  into  the  canon  of  the  Little 
Cottonwood  to  Alta— a  mining  town  known  all  round  the  world.  The 
place  is  not  only  entertaining  in  itself,  but  in  its  neighborhood  are  a 
large  number  of  easily  accessible  gorges,  lakes  and  hilltops  full  of  artistic 
material  and  of  trout  fishing;  or,  if  the  tourist  goes  late  in  the  season,  of 
good  shooting  and  ample  opportunity  for  dangerous  adventures  in 
mountaineering.  The  Little  Cottonwood  is  one  of  those  great  crevices 
between  the  peaks  of  the  Wasatch  range  plainly  visible  from  Salt  Lake 
City,  and  distinguished  by  its  white  walls,  which  when  wet  with  the 
morning  dews  gleam  like  monstrous  mirrors  as  the  sunlight  reaches 
them  from  over  the  top  of  the  range. 

"We  took  the  early  morning  train  down  to  Bingham  Junction, 
so  called  because  branch  roads  diverge  here,  not  only  to  Alta,  our  desti- 
nation, but  also  to  Bingham,  a  mining  camp  opposite,  in  the  Oquirrh, 
which  has  attracted  much  attention  in  the  past  and  still  has  very  profit- 
able mines,  with  many  peculiarities  of  great  interest  to  the  specialist. 
Here  at  the  Junction  stood  awaiting  us  a  locomotive  heading  a  train 
made  up  of  almost  every  kind  of  car  known  to  rolling  stock.  Whisked 
away  past  fields  of  lucerne  we  were  quickly  climbing  the  foothill 
benches  and  entering  the  mouth  of  the  canon,  where  the  train  came  to  a 
standstill  underneath  an  ore-shed  and  alongside  of  a  beer-saloon.  In 
front  of  the  saloon  stood  on  slender  rails  two  or  three  of  the  queerest 
vehicles  it  was  ever  my  fortune  to  ride  in.  If  you  can  imagine  the  body 
of  a  three-seated  sleigh,  with  its  curled  up  splash-board,  mounted  upon  a 
hand-car  and  rigged  with  a  miniature  "boot"  behind,  you  will  have  an 
idea  of  these  vehicles  in  which  we  were  to  finish  our  trip  up  the  eight 
miles  of  canon  remaining.  The  motive  power  consisted  of  two  black 
mules,  harnessed  tandem,  and  the  driver  was  the  conductor  of  the  train, 
who  disguised  himself  so  effectually  in  a  big  hat  and  bigger  duster  that 
ft  was  a  long  time  before  we  discovered  his  identity. 


JACK  FROST  AS  A   QTTARRYMAN.  339 

The  walls  of  this  canon  are  extremely  lofty,  and  in  places  almost 
vertical.  Though  in  crevices  and  ledges  here  and  there  some  fearless 
bushes  and  trees  have  maintained  a  foothold,  yet  there  are  large  spaces 
of  almost  upright  slope,  wholly  bare  of  the  least  soil  or  vegetation,  and 
smoothed  by  the  waters  that  drip  over  them,  the  sliding  avalanches  that 
sweep  their  faces,  and  the  fierce  winds  that  polish  them  under  streams 
of  sharp-grained  dust.  Whiter  precipices  I  have  never  seen,  and  the 
rock  lies  in  long  layers,  that  in  the  case  of  sedimentary  rocks  we  would 
call  strata,  inclined  at  a  very  steep  angle  against  the  higher  heart  of  the 
range  within.  Here,  too,  are  the  usual  lines  of  cross-cleavage,  and 
in  these  lines,  as  well  as  between  the  layers,  water  finds  itself  able  to 
penetrate  more  or  less  easily.  Hence  the  frost  during  past  ages  has 
slowly  cracked  off  great  masses  of  exposed  cliff  and  hurled  them  down. 
This  rock  does  not  crumble,  as  would  the  lavas,  but  falls  in  masses,  and 
with  these  the  bottom  of  the  canon  has  been  gradually  filled  up.  The 
water  of  the  creek  finding  its  way  over  and  among  the  great  pieces,  never 
ceases  to  be  a  cataract,  or  has  a  moment  rest  from  its  foaming  haste ;  and 
our  tramway  squirmed  and  dodged  among  angular  fragments,  each 
as  big  as  a  house,  which  had  fallen  so  recently  as  yet  to  be  lying  on 
top  of  the  ground. 

It  is  by  splitting  to  pieces  these  great  detached  droppings  of  the 
cliff — solid  fragments  of  the  original  granite  cliff, — that  the  contractors 
get  the  fine  building  stone  of  the  Mormon  temple  in  the  city.  There  is 
no  need  to  open  any  quarries.  It  is  only  necessary  to  drill  and  blast 
these  big  stones  lying  on  the  surface,  and  the  demands  of  a  hundred 
temples  would  not  exhaust  the  supply.  Men  were  at  work  as  we  passed, 
splitting  out  blocks  that  were  dragged  by  stoneboats,  or  sent  along  the 
tramway  down  to  where  they  could  be  loaded  upon  the  railroad  cars. 
Until  three  years  ago  every  bit  of  this  stone  was  hauled  all  the  way 
to  Salt  Lake  City  by  bullock  teams,  and  the  great  expense  and  labor 
account  both  for  the  large  expense  and  the  slow  progress  of  the  mighty 
structure. 

A  mile  or  so  above  Wasatch  station,  the  tramway  entered  a  snow- 
shed;  and  with  momentary  exceptions,  it  never  got  out  of  it  for  seven 
miles.  To  the  sight-seer  this  was  discouraging;  but  it  was  compensated 
by  the  coolness,  for  in  the  stillness  of  the  cafion,  the  sunshine,  reflected 
from  the  dazzling  walls,  was  fiercely  hot,  and  our  occasional  emergen- 
cies into  it  was  like  passing  before  the  door  of  a  blast  furnace.  These 
sheds  are  said  to  have  cost  one  hundred  thousand  dollars,  though  the 
timber  was  close  at  hand  and  sawed  in  the  canon.  They  were  necessary, 
for  this  is  a  gorge  famous  for  its  depth  of  snowfall  and  its  avalanches. 
It  required  two  hours  to  toil  through  the  sheds  and  at  the  end  we  found 
as  peculiar  a  scene  of  human  life  as  could  well  be  imagined.  The  canon 
"heads"  here,  in  an  almost  complete  circle  of  heights,  some  of  which 
reach,  stark  and  splintered,  far  above  timber-line.  At  the  disbandment  of 


340  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

General  Connor's  regiment  of  Californian  troops  in  1863,  they  scattered 
through  the  mountains  and  among  other  places  came  here.  Prospecting 
the  higher  slopes,  silver  ore  was  discovered,  and  a  host  of  miners  came 
in,  and  began  digging  on  all  the  hills.  The  famous  "  Emma,"  the 
"Flag  Staff,"  and  dozens  of  other  mines  were  opened.  A  town,  well- 
called  Alta  (high),  sprang  up,  and  filled  all  the  level  land  at  the  head  of 
the  valley,  while  buildings,  and  machinery  and  dumps  dotted  the  moun- 
tain sides  to  their  topmost  ridges.  Long  paths  had  marked  the  ruin 
of  avalanches  before  this,  but  when,  to  supply  timber  for  the  mines  and 
the  cabins,  the  mountain  sides  were  denuded  of  their  forests,  large  areas 
of  deep  snow  became  loosened  in  every  great  storm,  and  slid  with  crush- 
ing force,  tearing  up  and  carrying  everything  before  it,  to  the  bottom  of 
the  slope.  Once  the  whole  corner  of  the  town  was  swept  clean  away; 
again  and  again  miners  lost  their  buildings  at  their  tunnel  entrances. 
Little  work  could  be  done  in  winter  yet  many  stayed  in  Alta,  isolated 
from  the  world,  and  at  the  mines,  and  many  and  many  a  one  lost  his 
life,  to  have  his  body  found  in  a  horrible  condition  when  the  winter  was 
over.  Then  in  the  spring,  when  the  frost  was  loosening  the  ground, 
and  the  melting  snow  was  pouring  a  thousand  waterfalls  down  the  sides 
of  the  canon,  the  snowslides  were  succeeded  by  the  giving  away  of 
masses  of  soil  and  loose  rocks,  which  came  headlong  into  the  bottom  of 
the  canon.  One  such  avalanche  of  rocks  was  pointed  out  to  us  which 
had  slid  down  the  opposite  mountain  with  such  force  as  to  carry  it  clear 
across,  and  almost  a  hundred  feet  up  the  hither  slope,  sweeping  away 
the  tramway,  sheds  and  all. 

Meanwhile  the  original  owners  of  the  mines  had  sold  them  in  the 
most  prominent  cases,  for  enough  to  make  the  men  wealthy.  Companies 
had  been  formed,  the  stock  had  been  put  upon  the  market,  and  the  usual 
history  of  a  mining  camp  was  gone  through.  The  "Emma,"  in  the 
hands  of  a  company  of  English  capitalists,  was  made  notorious  by  liti- 
gation, and  for  a  long  time  was  shut  down.  Now,  however,  a  new  era 
is  beginning.  "Work  has  been  resumed  on  many  lodes  that  for  years 
have  been  idle,  and  arctic  Alta  may  yet  range  herself  among  the  foremost 
silver-producing  localities  of  the  territory.  We  were  all  glad  we  went 
up  there,  yet  were  quite  ready  at  four  o'clock  to  return. 

When  we  took  our  seats  in  the  little  sleigh-like  car,  no  mules  stood 
sedately  tandem  in  front  of  it ;  and  before  we  understood  that  we  were 
ready,  behold  we  were  off!  It  was  merely  the  loosening  of  a  brake, 
and  the  car  began  to  roll  swiftly  down  the  track.  That  was  an  exhilar- 
ating ride!  Whisking  round  the  curves,  rattling  through  long  tunnels, 
dodging  out  into  the  sunlight  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  a  sparkling  waterfall, 
or  a  bit  of  plain  seen  away  down  the  canon,  then  back  again  into  the 
tunnel,  where  gophers  and  chip-munks  and  cotton  tails  were  continually 
perking  up  their  heads  and  then  scuttling  into  some  small  cave  of  refuge 
as  we  rushed  past — on  and  on,  down  and  down  in  the  face  of  the  stift 


COASTING  BY  RAtL.  Mi 

breeze  and  under  lofty  walls,  without  an  instant's  check,  until  we  glided 
into  the  little  terminus,  just  twenty -five  minutes  out  of  Altai 

But  our  gravity  railroading  was  not  done  yet.  A  small  passenger 
car  stood  at  the  head  of  the  railway  track  by  which  we  had  come  up 
from  the  valley.  As  soon  as  we  had  entered  it,  our  jolly  driver-con- 
ductor (there  was  no  gravity  about  him!)  loosened  the  brake  and  we 
rushed  off  again  like  the  ghost  of  a  train,  without  engine  or  engineer, 
and  went  spinning  down  the  tortuous  track  for  a  dozen  miles  to  Bing- 
ham  Junction.  It  was  just  as  good  fun  as  coasting — and  better,  for  you 
did  n't  have  to  drag  your  own  sled  back  up  hill  again. 


XXXVII 

AU  REVOIR. 


End  things  must,  end  howsoever  things  may. 

•—BROWNING. 

HIS  was  our  last  excursion,  and  all  three  of  us  knew  it 
as  we  gathered  in  our  own  coach  again  at  Bingham 
Junction. 

"At  last,"  remarks  Madame,  cheerfully  —  she  is 
thinking  that  before  many  more  days  an  apple-cheeked 
little  damsel  in  far  New  England  will  be  back  in  her 

arms "  we  have  come,  sir,  to  the  final  chapter.     The  emptiness  of  your 

utmost  corner-pigeon-hole  will  reproach  you  no  longer.  A  few  days 
more  and  Finis  will  be  written  across  the  completed  manuscript,  and  our 
glorious  cruise  will  be  a  thing  of  the  past.  Meanwhile,  sir,  remember 
your  '  Cochelunk,' — 

*  Act,  act  in  the  living  present, 
Heart  within  and  God  o'er  head.' ' 

"  For  instance?  "  I  ask,  after  this  homily. 

"  Observe,  and  make  a  note  of,  these  great  meadows  of  rich  grass 
and  the  russet  areas  where  hay  has  been  cut.  Note  how,  among  the 
plumey  masses  left  standing  scarlet  flowers  are  burning  like  coals — I 
wonder  if  prairie  fires  ever  originate  from  their  igniting  the  dry  and 
feathery  stalks!  See  how  the  Jordan  flows  stately  down  the  center 
of  this  wide  mountain  trough,  its  banks  crowded  with  farmhouses,  each 
in  its  little  copse  of  trees.  Long  lines  of  Lombardy  poplars  mark  the 
boundaries  of  many  farms  and  willows  show  where  the  big  irrigating 
ditches  pass  or  rivulets  trickle.  All  these  things  are  of  the  highest 
interest,  and  imply  a  mass  of  statistics  you  ought  busily  to  gather  and 
carefully  to  record  in  tables  of  precise  and  copious  information." 

"Eh?"  I  say. 

What  is  the  matter  with  the  Madame?  Is  she  making  fun  of  some- 
body whom  she  ought  to  hold  in  a  respect  almost  amounting  to  awe? 
Feeling  that  I  ought  to  assert  myself  I  gently  hint  that  this  is  my  affair, 
and  her  help  is  uncalled  for  in  the  matter  of  book-making;  that  her  own 
department  is  wide  enough  for  all  her  energies;  and  that — 

But  here  Chum  interrupts  in  that  strix-like  way  of  his  which  always 
so  commands  attention  that  one  must  listen  whether  or  no. 

This  young  man  is  possessed  of  a  family  heirloom  in  the  shape 


THE  PARTING  STOIl    .  343 

of  several  hundred  traditions  of  a  more  or  less  mythical  grandfather. 
Some  of  these  tales  are  distinctly  poetical,  while  none  of  them  are  prosy. 
It  is  one  of  the  traditions  coined  in  the  ingenious  brain  of  this  talented  old 
gentleman  with  which  we  are  now  regaled,  apropos  of  the  matter  in 
hand. 

The  old  gentleman,  it  appears,  was  once— but  let  his  heir- apparent— 

"Who,"  the  Madame  interrupts  maliciously,  "has  very  little  hair 
apparent." 

''Let  him,"  I  say,  ignoring  the  insinuation,  "tell  his  own  story." 

"  Why  it  was  this  way,  as  you  very  justly  remark.  The  old  gen  lie- 
man  was  once  captured  by  the  Indians,  who,  instead  of  scalping  him, 
decided  to  make  him  a  beast  of  burden.  They,  therefore,  loaded  him 
down  with  cooking  utensils,  the  most  prominent  article  of  which  was 
the  useful,  but  heavy  frying-pan  known  in  the  vernacular  as  'skillet.' 
Each  Indian  deposited  upon  my  grandfather's  venerable  and  enduring 
back,  his  skillet.  The  old  gentleman  dare  not  protest,  but  meekly  sub- 
milted  and  trudged  off  under  his  Atlas-like  burden.  After  two  hours 
hard  marching,  however,  he  resolved  to  argue  the  question,  so  he 
shouted  imperatively, 

"'Halt!" 

"The  Indians  paused  in  wonder.  The  venerable  victim  climbed 
upon  a  fallen  tree  and  delivered  his  famous  forensic  effort,  as  follows: 

"'Mr.  Injuns!  I  have  a  proposition  to  make.  I  move  that  every 
Tnjun  carry  his  own  skillet.1 

"The  modesty  and  yet  fairness  of  this  proposition  met  with  an 
enthusiastic  reception  and  every  Indian  after  that  'carried  his  own 
skillet,'  which  commendable  example  it  would  be  well  for  all  to  follow." 

"  That's  a  good  story! "  I  remarked.  "  A  good  moral  story  1  This 
expedition,  my  dear  Madame,  was  for  fun,  not  for  geographical  pedan- 
try; and  my  book  shall  make  no  pretense  to  be  a  cyclopaedia,  a  guide,  or 
a  useful  companion  of  any  sort,  but  just  a  jolly  story  of  a  care-forget- 
ting vacation.  If  it  jogs  the  curiosity,  whets  the  appetite,  nerves  the 
fingers,  weak  through  long  toil  in  tying,  and  untying  purse  strings,  to 
come  and  see  what  we  have  seen,  that  is  all  the  effect  that  can  be 
expected;  and  this  much  done,  the  traveller  who  follows  our  uncertain 
trail  will  find  out  far  more  for  himself  than  we  ever  could  hope  to  tell 
him.  Seeing  Colorado,  no  matter  how  briefly, 

'Of  her  bright  face,  one  glance  will  trace 

A  picture  on  the  brain, 
And  of  her  voice  in  echoing  hearts 

A  sound  must  long  remain.' 

"  But  here  we  are  at  Salt  Lake,  and  home  again,  for  one  more  gay 
dinner  in  the  red- walled  car;  one  more  gay  evening  under  the  cool  stars; 
one  more  night's  rest  in  the  queer  little  stateroom.  To-morrow,  Chum, 
old  'friend  and  fellow-student,'  in  lonely  grandeur  you  will  be  taking 


344  THE  CREST  OF  THE  CONTINENT. 

the  long-to-be-remembered  '  special '  swiftly  back  to  Denver ;  while 
the  Madame  and  I  are  rolling  away  to  the  Golden  Gate.  Fill  your 
glasses.  And  what  shall  the  toast  be?  The  God- wrought  landscape  we 
have  seen?  The  wide-awake  people  we  have  known?  The  splendid 
railroad  whose  achievements  we  know  and  of  whose  hospitality  we  have 
partaken?  The  glorious  'good  times'  we've  had?  The  stores  of  health 
we  have  laid  away?  Ay,  all  these  and  more.  Let  us  toast  each  other: 
and  then — 

GOOD  NIGHT  1 


